


Make the Best of Being Flesh and Bone

by PastelCryptids



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types, Beetlejuice - Perfect/Brown & King
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, Autistic Beetlejuice, Autistic Lydia Deetz, Beetlebabes do not touch this or I will stomp you to death with my hooves, Beetlejuice learns how to not kill himself, Brother-Sister Relationships, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Human Beetlejuice, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Nightmares, Nonbinary Character, Stabbing your bffff forever does not bode well for the mind, Suicide Attempt, The Author Regrets Everything, This is literally just one of those reunion fics without the reunion, Trans Character, Trauma, WE ALL ARE AUTISTIC!, Well it's mentioned but it's better to warn anyway, post-musical
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:27:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23090182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelCryptids/pseuds/PastelCryptids
Summary: "Life is a goddamn rollercoaster. I don't know how you people do that, just like WHA! WHA! WHA! ALL THESE FEELINGS! One minute your on top of the world and the next minute, you feel like no one will ever love you. But it's worth it, every bit of it." Beetlejuice says."Interesting!" Says I.Or, Beetlejuice and the Maitland-Deetz household experience something entirely new.
Relationships: Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland, Beetlejuice & Adam Maitland & Barbara Maitland, Beetlejuice & Delia Deetz, Beetlejuice & Lydia Deetz, Beetlejuice/Adam Maitland/Barbara Maitland, Charles Deetz & Delia Deetz & Lydia Deetz, Charles Deetz & Delia Deetz & Lydia Deetz & Adam Maitland & Barbara Maitland, Charles Deetz/Delia Deetz
Comments: 213
Kudos: 314





	1. "Calm" Before the Very Obvious Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops?

So perhaps returning to the Maitland-Deetz household wasn’t one of Beetlejuice’s worst ideas. It had only been one month ago when he appeared in Lydia’s room, tears painting his cheeks and his hair a bright purple. Lydia’s first response, of course, was to throw around some snide comments before immediately hugging the demon as though he would disappear at any moment.

And then the rest of the Maitland-Deetz stepped in, hearing the commotion.

To say he was welcomed with open arms would be many things. A lie, first of all; second of all, it was quite an overstatement. Charles lost his marbles, Adam and Barbara held up _The Handbook For The Recently Deceased_ like it was some weapon (And it totally was, but Beetlejuice would never tell them), and Debra (Delilah, Delia?)… She was there.

But things were getting better, to say the least. Lydia was the only reason he and everyone else actually kept sane in the hellhouse that was the Maitland-Deetz household. Adam and Barbara had taught him about “good touch” and “bad touch'' (Using a _very_ colorful model with green meaning “good”, yellow meaning “maybe”, and red meaning “touch with consent only”; the amount of “maybes” in that model frustrated Beetlejuice deeply). Debra/Delilah/Whatever began to help him understand the whole “mental health” concept and was totally attempting to be his mom. Charles was… Well, he was Charles.

Life seemed to slow down just a bit for the Ghost With the Most and he had absolutely no issue with that.

And of course, right as he was thinking about that, he entered the Maitland-Deetz household and landed face-first onto the floor.

He could hear a bowl clatter and something heavy fall to the floor. Footsteps pattered nearby and got closer until they were right next to him. He felt small, firm hands roll him onto his back, and his eyes met Lydia's anxious face.

Beetlejuice gave a weak smile. “Hey, Babes.”

“Are you okay?” She murmured, slowly sitting him up.

“Oh, I’m doing fucking wonderful,” he said, wiping random blood from his nose and rubbing it on his sweatshirt.

Lydia stood up and grabbed a napkin. She handed it to him and sat back down. "What the hell happened to you?"

Oh yeah.

On paper, being chased around by certain higher-ups kind of sounded badass. It was like those dumb cowboy movies Charles had shown him one night! But actually being chased, however, fucking _sucked_. 

Beetlejuice knew to murder a demon in charge of a large chunk of the Netherworld was a pretty stupid idea, but he really couldn’t help it. Juno was going to kill Lydia and the Maitlands, and God/Satan forbid he let her take _them_ from him (Also, he was still feeling murder-y, so hey, killing two birds with one stone). So, he killed her, and he was one-hundred percent willing to take those consequences.

However, that being said, it wasn't very peachy getting randomly attacked by ghosts during a Guide. No, that wasn't peachy at all.

It also wasn't very peachy knowing _exactly_ who and what was attacking him and knowing that he couldn't exactly do anything about it.

So after having several Latin phrases thrown at him and words like "This is your punishment, the Council had decreed, blah blah blah", he went to his lovely hellhouse on the hill, where he was now vomiting.

Lydia squealed and threw herself back, shouting, _"That's new!"_

Beetlejuice heaved as his body keeled over. Lydia was running her hands through his hair and trying to get his attention, but good God/Satan, everything was so… _Awful._ His brain felt like it was shoved in a blender and his body ached in ways it never had before. His stomach was being twisted into literal knots and acid-filled bile filled his throat.

He at least _tried_ to look up, watching Lydia with glassy eyes. His eyes fluttered as they tried to clear and, suddenly, Lydia was wearing that damned, bright red wedding dress, and he was wearing that ugly red tuxedo. He threw himself back, causing Lydia to yelp and his entire hallucination to cease… And then his pain.

Lydia Deetz wasn't wearing a red wedding dress. Lydia Deetz wasn't getting married. Beetlejuice wasn't wearing a red tuxedo. Beetlejuice wasn't getting married.

Lydia grabbed Beetlejuice's shoulders and pulled him up, her eyes just as filled to the brim with tears as his now. She looked back to the staircase and bit her lip.

"Guys! Come down here, Beej and I need you!"

As Beetlejuice's grip on reality grew tighter, he looked up at the ceiling and groaned. God/Satan, now his _jaw_ ached too.

Delia was the first to come down the stairs, practically throwing herself down them to reach Beetlejuice and Lydia. And that's when the rapid-fire questions arose. "Why is he back so early? Is everything alright? Is he hurt? Do we need the Handbook? Oh gosh, whose vomit is that? Wh —"

"Calm down, Debra," Beetlejuice heaved, resting his head on the crevice between Lydia's neck and shoulders.

"Well, at least we know he's still mentally alright…" Delia mumbled.

Lydia began running her fingers through Beetlejuice's hair again. "Hey, Beej? Can you tell us anything? We need to know what happened so we can help you —"

"Ghost shit happened and now everything hurts," Beetlejuice blurt out.

"That's… A starting point," Lydia sighed.

Adam and Barbara were the last to come downstairs, their looks just as concerned as the rest.

"Is everything alright?" Barbara murmured.

"Ghost shit," Lydia answered.

The couple nodded and Adam kneeled next to Beetlejuice. "Do we need the Handbook?"

Beetlejuice waved a limp hand. "No, 's cool. 'S _all_ cool."

"Well," Delia drawled, "do you feel better now?"

"Depends on your definition of 'better', but I'm definitely not in agonizing pain anymore, so that's nice," Beetlejuice looked down at the teen clutching his body so tight he thought he might pop, "you can also let go now, kid."

Lydia nodded and scooted back from Beetlejuice, taking a few deep breaths. Suddenly, she froze. She narrowed her eyes, frowned, and cocked her head. “What does brown mean?”

Beetlejuice frowned. “What?”

“Your hair is brown,” Lydia explained, "what emotion is that?”

Beetlejuice ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t — I don’t know. I mean… I mean, I feel a _little_ discomforted…"

“So it should be green and purple, right?” Delia asked.

“Yeah,” Adam mumbled, “yeah, it should.”

Beetlejuice’s eyes widened as he attempted to pull a strand of hair down. “Am I broken? Can demons break?”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Delia comforted, walking closer to him and kneeling.

Beetlejuice suddenly felt a pressure in his core. It spread to his face as his cheeks grew warm.

Funny, he never blushed before.

His head began to pulse as his thoughts became loopy once more.

Lydia tapped his shoulder. “Hey, Beej? You look a little red…”

Beetlejuice opened his mouth and then he suddenly felt it. Air went through his nose and mouth, and like a cleansing river, relief rushed through his veins. He began breathing deeply, in and out, just like Lydia and all the other breathers. He would’ve — _could’ve, should’ve?_ — stopped, but it was all so refreshing. The warmth and pressure lessened and the pulsing in his head ceased.

His chest thumped as though it were a door someone was banging against, desperate to escape. His eyes wandered to his chest. Lydia cupped his cheek and his eyes snapped up to her face.

“C — Can I do something?” She asked

Beetlejuice forced a smile. “Uh, depends on what that ‘something’ is…”

Lydia lifted her hand from his cheek and gently rested against his chest, right where his heart would be. Her eyebrows furrowed as she attempted to adjust her hand.

And then her eyes widened.

She began to mumble softly to herself and moved her hand to his neck, pressing two fingers against it.

“Scarecrow, what are you doing?” He asked. 

Lydia didn’t even seem to acknowledge him. Her mumbling grew louder as he could audibly hear her say “no” over and over. Her two fingers traveled to his wrist. The hand that held his wrist forward squeezed tightly.

Lydia finally dropped his hand. She looked down. Her eyes pierced the floor like stakes. “Beetlejuice,” she whispered. Lydia looked up at him with wide eyes. “Do demons have a heartbeat?"

And now that he thought about it… He could feel his heart pulse in his chest, sending vibrations throughout his body. He inhaled a breath he _knew_ he shouldn't need but so desperately craved. He could feel the sweat forming at his brow and rolling down his back.

He could hear Delia saying _something_ to him, but it appeared to be all for naught as he could only hear the muffled sounds of her saccharine voice. It was as though someone had stuffed globs of wax in his ears, blocking his already weak hearing.

He watched his chest rise and fall quickly, almost animatronic-like. His head felt faint as he looked up at Lydia with a weak, hazy vision.

"Hey, Babes?" He sort of heaved and mumbled at the same time. "I think I'm…"

Delia's voice finally broke through the block in his hearing. "Beetlejuice, you're hyperventilating. I need you to —"

And with that, Beetlejuice collapsed on the living room floor.


	2. The Whole "Being Alive" Thing I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some things are cleared up and a lot of things are still confusing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note to those who read the first chapter a while back: I changed a few small things, mainly just timeline, so if you want to reread the first few paragraphs feel free! (Here's the Sparknotes version though: It's only been one month since Beej arrived and Charles is still being Charles)
> 
> Also, I wrote this l a t e at night, so please let me know if I made any major typos lmao

Lydia stared blankly at the wall before her. The guest room was the simplest of all of the rooms in their house (Mainly due to Dad begging Delia and convincing her in ways that made Lydia want to barf), with only purple walls and black wood.

Now, it was Beetlejuice's room.

The room itself had changed from a rather simple, blank slate to a room with much more personality. A proud mix of she, Delia, Dad, and the Maitlands' elbow grease along with Beetlejuice's own odd, kooky powers created the perfect room for the infamous Ghost With the Most. The blankets were black and white stripes with bright, obnoxious, green pillows. There was a black dresser filled with donated clothes from her dad's old college days (Lydia had yet to convince Beetlejuice to let her buy him clothes, but now would probably be a good excuse). Several framed photos of him and the Maitland-Deetz household were also scattered about the room. Finally, to top it all off, was a poster for _Little Shop of Horrors_ which Lydia had accidentally gotten him addicted to and had taken him to see at the local theatre.

The entire room _emanated_ Beetlejuice. She couldn't possibly think of it being anything else. The mere being inside of the room gave her comfort from the tragedies of life. But now, for the first time, she genuinely dreaded being in Beetlejuice's room. Not when his unconscious body was right beside her.

He was alive. 

_Again._

It was odd hearing his soft, irregular breathing — his body still so _unused_ to such a concept. She fought back all urges to rest against his chest, feeling it rise and fall, and tap to the beat of his new heart. 

And yet, despite the clear signs of life running through him, Lydia still felt worried — horrified even. What if his body couldn’t handle its changes? Sure, he seemed fine the first time he came alive, but then again… Beetlejuice was always unpredictable. He _did_ just stumble into her house about two hours ago as a human.

Delia had attempted to convince Lydia to let him rest alone, but Lydia remained stubborn. She was staying in his room until her stupid demon (Ex-demon?) woke up. 

Lydia groaned and collapsed onto the bed. Beetlejuice’s hand rested above her head and she gently held it. It was warm now. She could still feel the familiar calluses and handprints, but it still felt so different, so new. 

Warmth itself was so foreign to her now. She rarely ever experienced it except for when she hugged Delia or Dad, or perhaps when she wrapped a coat around her body. But even then, the warmth was ripped away from her the moment they let go or when Lydia stepped outside to the cold, winter air. It wasn’t a bad thing, not at all. But that didn’t mean she didn’t miss it every once in a while.

Beetlejuice stirred in his sleep and Lydia jumped. She sat up and hovered over his head. “Beej?” She called out.

His eyes fluttered as his face scrunched up. Lydia gripped his shoulder and shook him gently.

Then violently.

Beetlejuice sat up immediately, greedily breathing in as much air as possible. Sweat began to form at his brow like a window on a hot, humid day. 

He never used to sweat. He also never used to need air.

Lydia blinked up at him, clearly trying to keep a neutral face, but having her furrowing eyebrows betray her. "Are you okay?"

"I… I think?" He ran a hand through his hair.

It was still greasy from his lack of a shower in about a week. He should _probably_ clean his hair before Delia drags him out to her time-out (Which was literally just sitting outside while she planted flowers a few feet away), but that was beside the point.

Lydia bit her bottom lip and rocked back and forth. They rarely ever had issues having conversations. “So…” She drawled.

“So…”

Lydia blew a raspberry. “You’re human now.” 

“Wha?"

Lydia shifted her body to face Beetlejuice. It was an odd experience if she was going to be completely honest with herself. He definitely did not look as pale — or purple — as he normally was. His skin was much tanner and lacked the green splotches (Was it mold?) that decorated his body. And the green that was his bush of hair was completely gone, replaced by plain, brown hair.

Lydia blinked and shook her head. She was losing focus.

“You don’t remember?” She asked. “Y’know, stumbling into our house, hyperventilating, then fainting?"

Beetlejuice blinked back at Lydia, seeming to process everything slowly.

And then, suddenly, he sprinted to the bathroom, slamming the door shut. He locked the door and collapsed against the sink. Lydia was yelling his name outside the door and desperately trying to turn the knob.

Beetlejuice looked up from the sink and his breath (Wow, that was an odd thing to have) hitched. He looked less… _Gross —_ that was an absolute. Definitely more alive-looking.

Opening his mouth, he stuck his tongue straight out, studying the now pink muscle. It definitely was _not_ black and white stripes now. He ran his tongue over his teeth, feeling how _flat_ they were. Even his canines were smaller and duller than before. 

He ran a hand through his hair. It was a deep brown now, perhaps the same shade as Adam’s.

At least Adam’s hair was hella sexy.

 _You’re dodging the issue and coping by using humor,_ his inner Delia reminded him.

Beetlejuice groaned and cupped his face in his hands. Why the hell was this all happening now?

The door creaked as it was slowly opened, revealing a kneeling Lydia. She waved the small bobby pin in her hand and grinned. “Your bathroom lock is so fucked up now.”

* * *

“Remind me again about why you’re nervous to come downstairs and say ‘hi’ to people who know you?” Lydia’s hands were tightly clasped around Beetlejuice’s as she attempted to drag him downstairs.

“Well, it’s dinner time, so I don’t want to interrupt them —”

“— You’re part of the family, you couldn’t _possibly_ interrupt them —”

“— And, I mean, they still don't fully trust me and I'm one thousand percent sure Chuck hates me. I doubt they want to see me after that entire fiasco."

Lydia snorted and loosened her grip. "They don't hate you, Beej. Besides, my dad isn't here and everyone else _desperately_ wants to see you after everything," she tugged on his hand, "now, c’mon, I don’t think you want to miss out on Barbara’s cooking tonight.”

And despite all of the hardships Lydia went through to drag a man two times her weight, she was able to get Beetlejuice downstairs to greet the rest of her family. Delia was the first to practically throw herself from her chair and dote Beetlejuice, placing her hand over his forehead to check for a fever and tapping one of his chakras. 

Lydia chuckled and tugged at the sleeve of her step-mother. “Okay, Delia, let’s not cause Beej to faint again.”

“I know, I know,” Delia sighed, brushing off the shoulder of Beetlejuice’s sweatshirt. She looked back up at Beetlejuice. "You are alright though, right? Do you need anything? Any pain meds?”

Beetlejuice stuttered. “I —”

“Are you hungry?” Barbara piped in, finally standing from her chair.

Now that Beetlejuice thought about it, his stomach _was_ rumbling, and if Lydia’s description of hunger was accurate, then yes, he was hungry. Beetlejuice nodded and was escorted to the table, sitting at his usual chair.

The plate in front of him was a burger with fries that smelled ten times stronger than usual. Beetlejuice’s face seemed to reflect that as he looked up at Barbara with a sheepish look on her face.

“I know it’s not fancy, but it’s been a rough day, so…”

Beetlejuice shook his head. “No! No, it’s just… Everything is so _strong.”_

Lydia’s eyes lit up and raised her hand. “Oh, I know what that’s like!”

“It’s not too overwhelming, is it?” Delia asked.

“Yes?” Beetlejuice shook his head again. “No? I don’t know? It’s just… A lot.”

“Well, tell us if you need some alone time, okay?” Delia quickly turned to Lydia. “And I mean _actual alone_ time.”

Lydia dropped the chicken sandwich she was eating and raised her hands in innocence. “Hey, I just wanted to make sure he didn’t swallow his tongue in his sleep!”

Delia chuckled and rolled her eyes. Beetlejuice popped a fry in his mouth mindlessly, suddenly getting blasted with a billion different feelings at once. He threw himself from the table, falling gracelessly on his ass.

_“WHAT THE FUCK!”_

Lydia kneeled beside Beetlejuice and patted his back. “You good, buddy?”

“Is that what food _actually_ tastes like? Do you get punched in the face every time?”

Lydia glanced back and forth. “I thought you… I thought you knew what food tasted like? You eat with us like all the time…”

“I mean, I sorta knew what food tastes like, but not _really._ It’s like the Lacroix of food.”

“Bubbly, bland fruit water?”

Beetlejuice sat back on his chair. “Uh… Sure.”

“Do you want something milder?” Delia asked.

The ex-demon nodded meekly. “Yes, please.”

Lydia jumped from her seat, raising her hand like a student. “I got it! I’m done eating!” She ran to the sink, dropping her plate into the sink and opening the fridge. “We have naan, that counts as mild, right?”

As Lydia prepared to shove the naan into the toaster oven, a sharp scratch stopped her in her tracks. A green outline formed along the wall, releasing smoke. A brown-skinned woman with bright red hair peeked through, glancing back and forth at the dining room before stepping in. She nodded at Beetlejuice. “You seem to be faring well.”

Beetlejuice cocked his head. “Miss A.?”

Adam immediately stood up, preparing to bolt upstairs. He looked at the rest of the family members, waiting for confirmation to go and grab the Handbook. Lydia’s eyes, however, immediately lit up.

“Hey!” Lydia exclaimed. “You’re that receptionist lady, right?”

Said “receptionist lady” hesitated before croaking out, “Uh…”

Lydia stepped closer (Far too close in Adam and everyone else who was just clueless’ opinion), studying her. “You were green though… What changed?”

Miss Argentina’s lip curled as she forced an awkward smile and patted Lydia’s head. “Different world, girl. Anyways, I need to speak to Lawrence.”

“You’re not supposed to be up here,” Beetlejuice scolded.

Miss Argentina shrugged. “Not if I say it’s for diplomatic reasons. Being in charge gives me lots of new privilege.”

“You’re in charge?”

“Oh, yeah,” Miss Argentina giggled, “Juno thought it would be _hilarious_ if she wrote in that I would be the next head of the American quarter in the Netherworld when she died. Well, guess what happened? The Council doesn’t trust me with that much power because ‘I’m just a civilworker,' so I just get to watch out for Connecticut. Still got some of the privileges, though.”

“Is _anyone_ going to explain what is happening?” Delia bawled.

Miss Argentina glared at the living and two ghosts in front of her. “This is undead business, business between Lawrence and me.”

“Is it about _this?”_ Beetlejuice gestured to himself.

“... Yes. Yes, it is.”

“Then the Maitlands and Deetz can hear about it too,” Beetlejuice reasoned, “I live in their house after all."

“I just — I don’t know how much they know and I don’t want to —”

“I can assure you, whatever you’re about to say is nothing compared to the shit we’ve seen already,” Lydia insisted, finally placing Beetlejuice’s food into the toaster oven.

Miss Argentina sighed. “Well, the Council — you all know what the Council is, right?”

Everyone but Beetlejuice shook their head.

“The Council is the head of the Netherworld, made up of some old-ass ghosts and a few demons. Anyways, the Council declared Lawrence guilty of murdering Juno. Since he’s sort of the biggest delinquent of the Netherworld, they decided to give him a more… Finite form of punishment. Well, Lawrence can’t die and exorcisms do not work well, so what do they decide? Make him mortal. That way he can, hopefully, die permanently.”

Barbara pursed her lips. “So they revived him?”

“In the simplest of words, yes.”

“I’m not saying that it would be profitable,” Lydia said, giving Beetlejuice a new plate of food, "but it would one hundred percent be profitable. I mean, there must be a _ton_ of dead people who want to redo their life. Why don’t people just casually revive others?”

Miss Argentina snorted and rolled her eyes. “It really would only work if you’re a demon or powerful enough. But even then, the information to revive the dead is only in the oldest version of _The Handbook For The Recently Deceased._ So, Lawrence,” She turned to Beetlejuice, “that means the Council must really, _really_ hate you.”

“Well, I _did_ murder Juno, so…” Beetlejuice said, shrugging.

“We all murder a parent at least once in our life," Lydia reasoned. She quickly glanced at the now terrified Delia and smirked.

Miss Argentina’s eyes widened as she seemed to zone out for a moment, immediately snapping back to reality as she stood. “I think the Council is getting suspicious. I need to leave…” she walked up to the door and knocked on it two times before turning to the Maitland-Deetz, “keep him safe, alright? Don’t want him walking into the reception room anytime soon.”

And with a third knock, she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beej is probably so ooc, but it's whatever hahahahhahahahahahhaha :'D
> 
> I really love the idea of the Maitland-Deetz fully welcoming Beej into the family and decorating one of their rooms for him, even if he doesn't technically need one. 
> 
> And with Miss Argentina: I found it odd that all the other ghosts in the Netherworld have diverse skin colors and obvious signs of how they died while the Maitlands didn't. So, I headcanon that while in the "Surfaceworld" (Yes, that's what I'm calling it), the dead appear how they did before they died (A.K.A normal looking and much more human), and are only spirits. The Netherworld, however, has the dead appear how they looked post-death, mixing both their spirit and corpses together, causing the changes in skin color — sort of Corpse Bride-esque. It's very weird and messy, but it's the best I can do for now dfhhfgjhgj
> 
> Finally, I have more Netherworld headcanons!! Due to the fact that the five senses, minus vision, aren't really needed post-mortem, the dead's senses are heavily dulled down. I'm scared to use the word dull too much, but that's really the best way to describe it. Everything except touch and sight are pretty much gone, dull to the mind. You know when you brush your teeth with strong minty toothpaste and then eat something? It's sort of like that! (That's also why the dead casually eat bugs and stuff lmao) 
> 
> Since Beetlejuice was born dead, he hasn't ever /properly/ experienced his senses, other than the small amount he has. So, when he actually experiences the other senses fully it is i n s a n e
> 
> Anyways, if you read through all of that, thank you, and thanks for reading! 
> 
> Also!! Please leave comments, I love hearing peoples' opinions and nerding out about my and others' ideas!!


	3. The Whole "Being Alive" Thing II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> They'll be your guide!  
> They'll be your G-U-I-D-E to the other side!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I regret typing that summary out
> 
> Anyway, I'm not very fond of this chapter personally, but y'know what, c'est la vie

The first two things Charles saw when he walked through the front door was a half-asleep Delia nursing a cup of tea and a pretty-much-asleep Lydia with an abandoned empty mug (Presumably once filled with coffee).

Delia gave him a weak smile and met Charles halfway, immediately kissing and hugging him the moment they made contact. Lydia, on the other hand, gave a weak "welcome back" before resting her head on her forearm.

"You know you didn't have to stay up so late just to see me," Charles said softly, as to not wake the Maitlands or, surprisingly, Beetlejuice.

"'S whatever," Lydia mumbled, "thought you might appreciate it."

Charles smiled and ruffled his daughter's hair, which earned him a loud groan in return. "Well, I do appreciate it. Thank you, sweetheart."

"Now, you have to go to bed," Delia said, beginning to add just a hint of motherly tone into the mix.

Lydia sat up quickly, before immediately slouching again. "But what about Beej?"

"What _about_ Beetlejuice?" A million ideas began running through Charles' mind, debating which piece of furniture was broken or who would need to host the next group therapy session.

Delia sighed and pulled Lydia up, gently pushing her to the stairs. "I'll discuss Beetlejuice with your father, Lydia. It's late…"

"Okay, well," Lydia leaned on the railing and poked her head down, "just know that what happened wasn't completely his fault!"

Charles waved his hand. "Right, right, of course," once he thought Lydia was gone (She probably wasn't, knowing her, but at least he waited), he turned to his fiance, "what the hell did he do now?"

_"Beetlejuice_ didn't do _anything,"_ Delia stated, placing a hand on her hip, "it was these… Ghosts… _Council_ members, actually. This receptionist lady explained a large chunk of it."

"Receptionist… Lady…"

"Yes! Lydia said she knew her, so I assume you know her?" Delia began waving her arms. _"Bright_ red hair, pageant crown, brown skin — actually, no, Lydia said she had green skin —"

Charles placed his hand on Delia's shoulder. "You mean the Argentinian woman?"

"She _did_ have a Miss Argentina sash on…"

"Yes, yes, I know her. What does this have to do with Beetlejuice, though?"

"Oh!" Delia clapped her hands. "Well, because of this ghost council thing, Beetlejuice is human now!"

Charles took a step back. He slowly processed the words that came from Delia's mouth and frowned. "He's… What?"

"He's _human,"_ Lydia called from the stairs, "and probably will be for the rest of his now-mortal life."

Both parents turned and gave Lydia the Look of Shame before softening their glares. Charles began tapping his fingers. "I have so many questions."

"And we can answer them all later," Delia said _far_ too calmly for someone in a situation like this.

"I — Is he alright?"

Lydia yawned. "He's probably fine. Besides, he probably fell asleep the _moment_ he hit the bed."

* * *

Three hours. 

It took him _three_ hours to fall asleep.

“Oh, sleep is _so_ much better when you’re human!” Lydia had said. “You’ll be dead asleep by ten.”

He would never say that Lydia Deetz was a liar, but Lydia Deetz was a goddamn liar.

Beetlejuice had finally decided to close his eyes and attempt to join the great dreaming beyond at four A.M. 

It was seven A.M. when he actually fell asleep.

So there he was, sleeping peacefully (Well, that was debatable, but whatever) when suddenly, there was an ear-piercing whistle (Which was also quite louder than Beetlejuice expected, being that he could finally hear properly — he'd have to apologize to Adam and Barbara for blowing it in _their_ ears that one time).

_“Good morning!”_ Barbara sang out with that obnoxious Disney princess voice.

Beetlejuice stared up at the ceiling and suppressed a groan. Adam leaned over him, making incredibly awkward personal bubble contact (To quote Adam, "Some people despise others getting into their personal bubble, so be careful about that," what a hypocrite). The man smiled even brighter.

"Welcome to your first day of Human Bootcamp!"

Lydia, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, blew into her kazoo, sending _another_ horrific screech into Beetlejuice's ears.

Beetlejuice sighed and sat up. “Is this revenge for me having a parade in your house after you died?”

Both Adam and Barbara nodded and grinned before answering, “Yes!”

Beetlejuice ran a hand down his face and groaned. “Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.”

* * *

There was a decently sized whiteboard in the center of the attic with simple writing stating: “How to be human 101." Adam and Barbara both held one of those odd hand pointers, all too excited to be teachers for once.

Lydia sat parallel from Beetlejuice, her arms and legs crossed while emanating a sense of power and superiority — it was quite obnoxious. However, Adam and Barbara seemed to finally notice the teenage girl as well and quickly started interrogating her.

"Don't you have school?" Adam asked.

Lydia smirked and crossed her arms. "Nah, Delia called and let me have a day off because of everything that happened yesterday. So, I got the entire day to waste trying to teach Beej."

"I feel offended that you see this as a waste," Beetlejuice said.

_"Okay,"_ Barbara sang, "how about we start before we get too distracted?"

"That's good for me!" Adam said, giving one single, loud clap. "So, Beetlejuice, how much _do_ you know about human functions?"

Beetlejuice tapped his chin. "Uh… Eating and sleeping?"

Adam nodded. “That’s two of them… I guess that’s a start.”

"Is there… Anything else we can work with here?" Barbara asked, her lip curling as her eyebrows furrowed.

"Actually, yes," Beetlejuice's face turned serious as he looked straight at both Maitlands, "toilets. What the fuck is up with that?"

Barbara and Adam burst into laughter, and the first thing Beetlejuice could equate it to was the singing of angels (Or, at least, what he _thought_ angels sang like). His face felt warm again, like thousands of volts of electricity were humming in his cheeks.

Barbara paused for a moment and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face. "Oh! Beetlejuice, you're blushing again! You aren't going to faint again, are you?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine. Fuckin' fabulous actually," Beetlejuice sputtered.

Was breathers' blushing obvious? He had hoped that with his lack of mood-ring hair (The title Lydia had proudly given it), his emotions would be a little less obvious. Apparently not, however, as his cheeks decided to be the new replacement.

"We didn't embarrass you, did we?"

"No —"

"It's just that — well as _previous_ humans, stuff like that was just so simple and obvious, we didn't really think about how _you_ felt —" Adam interrupted.

"It's not —"

"God, we're acting just like you, huh? You were frustrated at us for being bad at being ghosts and now we're laughing at you for being bad at being human!" Barbara turned to Adam. "Sweetheart, we had to have hurt his feelings!"

"Guys —"

"Laughing at him was so rude! Gosh, did we _completely_ forget about our empathy class!" Adam continued.

"We should probably read that pamphlet again later…"

_“Hey!”_ Lydia yelled. “You’re getting distracted.”

Barbara's eyes widened as she nodded and quickly wiped down her dress. "Right! Sorry, B.J.!"

Oh.

That was new.

Beetlejuice cleared his throat. "Hey, Babs? Mind repeating that one more time?"

"Uh… Sorry, Beetlejuice?"

He quickly nodded and desperately attempted to quell the oncoming metaphorical burst of emotions that were going to _physically_ burst from his cheeks. "Yeah. Cool. Okay."

Lydia was smirking at him, keeping a singular brow raised high into the air. Beetlejuice stuck his tongue out at her before turning back to the board, where Adam was scribbling something down.

"Right," Adam said, spinning around again, "so, about using the bathroom…"

* * *

"Wait… _That's_ why it's there? It actually has more than one reason to exist other than fucking?"

A sharp inhale from Adam. "Yes, Beetlejuice. It has actual helpful reasons for existing."

"Holy shit."

* * *

"I don't see the reason why we need an appendix if it's just a ticking time bomb."

"That's what I think too!" Lydia piped up.

"I mean," Barbara shrugged, "it has _some_ uses. It helps protect good bacteria?"

"Yeah, well it apparently sucks at its job."

* * *

"Is it bad that I'm curious to see what would happen if a stomach digested itself?"

"Yes, Beetlejuice, yes it is."

* * *

Barbara huffed and wiped off eraser remains from her hands. “Well, that seemed pretty successful!”

Adam’s lip curled. "I don’t know. B.J. looked… Hesitant"

"Do you think… We were being rude?"

"We _did_ laugh at him, Barb."

“That’s what _bothers_ me. What if we were belittling him, making him feel stupid?” Barbara moved to the couch and sat beside Adam, running her fingers through his curls. "We should make it up to him tomorrow. _Really_ show him we actually are trying. It's the least we can do after treating him like garbage last month and like that again today."

"Well, last month he kind of _was_ garbage…" Adam said, biting back a smile.

Barbara playfully gasped and shoved her husband. "Adam! Watch your mouth! Maitlands 2.0, remember?"

"I thought Maitlands 2.0 was us not being afraid to be vocal about things?"

"Well, yes. But it was also improving our behaviors."

"Sure, sure," Adam murmured, pecking his wife's cheek.

Barbara returned the sentiment by kissing Adam on the lips. "Just promise me that tomorrow we'll apologize, okay?"

"Of course."

* * *

Stars never appeared in the sky anymore.

Beetlejuice had seen them slowly disappear over the centuries. He watched as the more light that appeared on the earth below, the less light appeared in heaven above. It was an odd thing.

He couldn't fully say he _missed_ the stars, but there was a small feeling of emptiness as he sat on the roof. They were the only thing that felt somewhat stable in his chaotic reality. They were always there and it's not like the constellations were going to disappear anytime soon — hopefully.

One of the windows squeaked as it opened. Lydia threw her leg out as she began to climb out. “Wanted to mope on the roof too?”

“Why else would I come up here?” Beetlejuice chuckled.

“I dunno…” Lydia said, “sometimes I like to look at stars, I guess.”

Beetlejuice arched his eyebrow and glanced up at the sky. “What stars? Y’all pretty much fuckin wiped them all out.”

Lydia snorted and reached her hand out to Beetlejuice, using her other hand to latch onto the ridge. “I mean, you’re not wrong. Also, help me up.”

He grabbed Lydia’s hand, pulling her the rest of the way up. On her back was a long, thick stick strapped to her. Lydia pulled out the long stick, taking out a weird _three-legged_ stick and attaching it to the long stick. She pressed her eyes against the smaller piece of the long stick and began twisting a few nobs and sections.

Oh. It was a _telescope._

Lydia grinned and pressed herself closer to the telescope. “There we go!”

“What are you looking at?” Beetlejuice asked.

“I was just focusing it a second ago, now I’m looking for something…”

Beetlejuice tapped his fingers against the roof, squinting at the blank, dark blue sky. “And what are you looking for?”

There was a soft giggle. “It’s a surprise.”

Lydia began softly mumbling as she subtly shifted the telescope every few seconds. Her eyes lit up as she moved away from the telescope and gestured to Beetlejuice. He pressed his eye against the glass and squinted.

There, rested in the blanket of the sky, was Orion. It had been forever since he’d seen it.

Beetlejuice cracked a smile. “Damn’, they really updated these things over the past century.”

Lydia shared his smile. “Of course. What else would you expect?” She gently moved Beetlejuice. “Move, there’s one more thing I wanted to show you.”

Lydia slowly adjusted the telescope and hummed in approval. She moved out of the way and gently pushed Beetlejuice towards it. He leaned in and looked through the glass.

In the center was a large, glowing, orange orb. If Beetlejuice squinted hard enough, he could see the faint white — or, perhaps, yellow — center.

"What is it?" He murmured.

"Betelgeuse," Lydia answered, "your namesake. It's right in the armpit of Orion and the twelfth brightest star."

Beetlejuice snorted and leaned back from the telescope. He leaned against the roof. "Well, that would explain _a lot."_

"What do you mean?" Lydia cocked her head.

"Of course I would be named after the _twelfth_ brightest star. It seems fitting."

Lydia's eyebrows pinched together. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Uh _duh._ Because it is."

"Well," Lydia said, scooching closer to him, "I disagree. I mean, think about it, _everyone_ knows about the biggest, brightest star. I mean, kids draw it in the corner of their drawings all the time. But Betelgeuse? It's much more interesting, much more _mysterious._ It's a special enigma that, once you learn to appreciate, shines just a little brighter."

Beetlejuice smiled and rolled his eyes. "Since when did you become Delia?"

A finger was jabbed in his face. "You _do_ know her name!" Lydia cried.

He snorted and waved his hand. “It was a fluke.”

"Oh, when I tell Delia, she's going to _freak!_ Do you know how badly she's wanted you to get her name right?"

Beetlejuice gripped Lydia's arm and grinned. "If you tell her, I can personally assure you that your life will be living hell.

"Ah, I see…" Lydia tore her arm from his hand and jumped up, "then I guess I'll have to run as fast as physically possible."

"Wait, no —"

Lydia burst into laughter and began sprinting across the roof. She slung herself through the attic window and peeked out. "Come on, Beej!"

Laughter echoed throughout the house as Barbara finished wiping off the whiteboard. She pursed her lips and turned to Delia. "He seems to be feeling better."

Adam nodded. "I guess so…"

"You know,” Delia murmured, taking a sip of her coffee, “maybe this whole human thing can be something genuinely good for this household."

Barbara smiled weakly. "I'd like to hope so."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAS THAT A BEETLELANDS HINT SHOVED IN THERE??? MAYBE
> 
> And I'm sorry, I had to do that obligatory Betelgeuse reference U_U It was too wholesome not to. They are siblings!! And you cannot convince me otherwise!!
> 
> I planned on 'The Whole 'Being Alive' Thing' saga only being two chapters, but fate said otherwise, so y'all get another chapter of this chaos!! Yeehaw!
> 
> Thanks for reading and please rant about anything to me in the comments!


	4. Reminiscing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood  
> Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather  
> The multitudinous seas incarnadine,  
> Making the green one red."  
> (Macbeth, Act 2, Scene 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A SUPER IMPORTANT QUESTION IN THE END NOTES, PLEASE READ IT!
> 
> Oops, the author accidently overworked themself and had to take a break, sorry!
> 
> Also, how is quarantine? Personally, I've been losing my marbles and getting major cabin fever hehe... But I did dye my hair black, and it looks p cool!
> 
> TW: Mentions of suicide

So, it turns out that hygiene is actually incredibly important to breather’s health. 

Who knew. 

Not cleaning your hair can cause scalp infections, not cleaning your _body_ could cause skin infections, and, the most ridiculous of all, not brushing your teeth could cause fucking heart attacks. Humans, Beetlejuice realized, were the weakest strong creatures he had ever seen — next to cats.

So, there was his first predicament.

As a demon and dead-born, the whole health concept didn’t really matter when it came to cleanliness, rather it was the concept of smelling like the living incarnate of death itself. And Maitland-Deetz, they were not very fond of living in a house where one of the inhabitants smelled like the living incarnate of death itself.

But, there was the kicker: Beetlejuice was _not_ fond of water, never was. He didn’t like the way it tapped against his skin and made him feel heavier than usual. _Juno_ wasn't fond of the way Beetlejuice reacted to water. Thus began the forever haunting trauma of being dunked in water, water-boarded, and being scrubbed until his flesh was bright red.

Luckily, the Maitland-Deetz were much more understanding. They made a pretty decent schedule, having him bathe every two weeks and just letting him scrub his armpits with deodorant the rest of the time (They even got a shower head with different settings which was pretty badass). It wasn’t the best solution, but it was what made Beetlejuice and everyone else happy and that was enough.

And now, there was his second predicament.

He needed to wash up… _Much_ more often. And that meant having to not only break his routine, but also have to make himself incredibly uncomfortable. 

Whoohoo.

"Where are you going?"

Beetlejuice paused, slowly turning his head back while grabbing the pajamas he was reaching for. Lydia was sitting at the edge of his bed and kicking her legs back and forth.

"I'm getting ready for a shower?"

Lydia frowned and stood. "But it's not your shower day yet. Why are you taking a shower _now?"_

(Unfortunately, in a world full of constant changes, Lydia was the worst when it came to it. She liked her routines to stay perfectly in place, even if it's the smallest of things).

"Well," Beetlejuice scratched the back of his head, "A-Dog and B-Town talked about germs and infections and stuff, so I guess I kind of wanted to avoid that? Plus, we've been outside for a solid two hours star-gazing in hot weather. I'm sweaty and probably smelly as hell. You probably are too."

"Yeah, I guess. I dunno, it's just weird to see you do it today."

Beetlejuice chuckled and opened the bathroom door. "No, I get it. I get that way too sometimes."

He began to close the door when Lydia stopped him midway. "Wait! You're leaving me?"

"Well, yeah. I gotta shower, kid," he arched an eyebrow, "I think we can both agree that you don't want to see me naked."

Lydia hesitated, then shivered, then nodded vehemently.

Beetlejuice smiled. "Now, are you gonna move or are you gonna let me crush your fingers?"

Lydia released the door and stepped back… Before immediately running back up to it.

"You'll let me know if you need me, right?"

"'Course."

The door actually shut this time, leaving Lydia in total silence. She fiddled with her thumbs and tried to come up with any possible way to fill the time as Beetlejuice bathed. 

It was fruitless.

She peeked in one more time because, hey, it didn’t hurt to make sure your B.F.F.F.F. Forever didn’t melt into goop like the Wicked Witch of the West when he entered the shower. Lydia watched as Beetlejuice threw off his sweatshirt and shirt. A gasp forced itself out of her mouth as she saw all the scars painting his back. She threw herself out of the thin crack and slammed the door shut.

“I heard that, kid,” Beetlejuice’s voice echoed through the door, “stop being a fuckin’ creep, I’ll be fine.”

Lydia inhaled through her teeth. “Sorry!”

She sat back down on Beetlejuice's bed, mindlessly scrolling through her phone. Lydia had seen his chest one other time, and that was when they were messing around with the hose in the backyard and Beetlejuice didn't want to ruin his sweatshirt. Back then (When he was still his odd, demon self), his wounds were much more… _Gory,_ to say the least. There were actual holes in his body, deep gashes, and (This was the coolest one in Lydia's opinion) still sizzling burns. There was even a perfectly see-through hole right where she stabbed —

Lydia stiffened up, throwing her phone across the room. She did those breathing techniques Delia had taught her as she slowly stood up and grabbed her phone, thanking every god in existence for it not to have cracked.

Her adrenaline subsided, but that sickening feeling still remained. Lydia shut her eyes tight and moved her thoughts to other subjects.

Beetlejuice's wounds just felt more _comical_ when she saw their actual effects. A simple gunshot did nothing to his body, so why did it matter? But then her thoughts were juxtaposed when she saw his body _now._ There were scars, signs, memories that all of this trauma happened to him, that it wasn't just some… Cartoonish, zany actions that wouldn't affect him in the long run.

And that _hurt,_ surprisingly.

Beetlejuice had told her not to cry over things that didn't happen to her. That it wasn't her fault that all of these horrible things happened to him.

But to think of the pain that he must've endured, the trauma that came after, how could she ignore that? How could she ignore the fact that _she_ caused one of those wounds to appear, that _she_ traumatized him, that _she_ stabbed him when he had _nerves,_ when everything was amplified and emotional and awful, when she —

The door creaked open and Lydia opened her eyes to glassy vision. She scrubbed her eyes, wiping away the very few tears that were beginning to prickle in her eyes.

Beetlejuice stepped out of the bathroom with only sweatpants covering him up. "Sorry, I put on the sweatshirt but then I felt something cold on my back and I took it off thinking, 'Huh, guess my back is still wet.' And honestly, it might've been, but it's not anymore, so I guess my sweatshirt got all the water on it, and that's really annoying, so I'm just gonna wait and —" he paused and actually looked at Lydia. "You good?"

Lydia blinked and nodded awkwardly. "Uh, yeah. Just… Zoned out for a second."

"Ah, cool." Beetlejuice bounced on the bed beside her and sighed. He stretched and yawned.

Lydia's eyes fell upon his chest, which was splattered with scars. And despite all of the badass scars Lydia wanted to study, one stuck out sickeningly, like an obnoxious, sore thumb. 

It was rather simple at first glance, just a large dot, similar to that of paint splatter. One could assume that it was perhaps a scratch from playing on a playground too rough or maybe an unfortunate bullet wound that was somehow not fatal. 

But Lydia knew. Lydia knew all too well where it came from.

She lifted her hand. “May I… May I touch your scar?”

Beetlejuice’s eyebrows furrowed. “Sure, kid.”

Lydia’s hand grazed over the stab wound. It was at least two inches wide and a pale purple.

Lydia pursed her lips. “Do — Do you ever have nightmares about this?” She gestured to the scar. “The stabbing?”

“Well, not _nightmares,_ per se, more like memories…” Beetlejuice mumbled, “but it’s usually not about the whole stabbing, that’s nothing compared to the other shit that I’ve done to this body. I dream about the wedding, and the exorcism, and all that other gross bullshit.”

Lydia snorted. “God, I’m the exact opposite. I dream about…" she paused, frowning and seemingly gulping. The words couldn't escape her mouth. "And getting blood all over that stupid red dress, and the carpet, _oh my god,”_ she ran a hand through her hair. “I couldn’t sit in the living room for weeks because of the stain left there. It took forever to get all of that red out.”

"O — Oh. Sorry."

“I mean, it’s not like you could’ve done anything about it,” Lydia said, forcing a smile, “humans bleed, I should’ve known that.”

“But if I hadn’t manipulated you or tried to _marry_ you —”

_“You wanted me gone —”_

_“I DON’T HAVE A CHOICE!”_

_Lydia was staring up at him, terrified of_ him _._

_“You wanted your mom —”_

_“IT’S MY FAULT SHE’S DYING!”_

_Lydia was sobbing._

_Again._

_Now that Beetlejuice thought about it, Lydia cried a lot. She cried on the roof, she_ almost _cried during that dinner, and she cried while he and she were having so much fun. Lydia Deetz was a crybaby, flat out._

_“You messed with the wrong book, now look what you’ve done!”_

_Barbara let out another spine-chilling, gut-wrenching scream._

_The Handbook fell to the ground and Lydia clawed at her scalp. She stomped her foot and looked up at Beetlejuice, dozens of emotions spreading across her face._

_“OKAY, I’LL DO IT, I'LL MARRY YOU!”_

Lydia gripped Beetlejuice’s hand, her face now a deep frown. “Beej…”

Beetlejuice blinked and forced a smile upon his tired face. “Hey, that was in the past. Wanna ask about these other scars?"

“I — uh, sure,” Lydia smiled back and began scanning his chest, humming to herself, “what about… This one!”

The scar she pointed to was a curved line across Beetlejuice’s stomach. It was a deep purple and wasn’t exactly the cleanest of cuts. 

Beetlejuice laughed and shook his head. “So, this monk summons me, right? And, of course, this was the time where monks were _really bad_ at being monks, so this dude summons me to help him murder this lady’s husband. And this was before I got all of my character development, so I went, 'Sure! What could possibly happen!'"

Lydia's pupils were practically starred as she leaned in. "Did the husband do it? Did he slice you?"

"No, actually," Beetlejuice paused for a moment to allow Lydia to giggle, "I got to the house and saw that this lady was actually pretty scarred from Mr. Monk and his 'encounters' with her, so I decided, 'Hey! Let's not murder this lady's husband who is clearly comforting her and instead murder Mr. Monk!' Mr. Monk was not happy.

"He's like, 'Hey, what the fuck, B.J.!'

"And I'm like, 'Payback, bitch!'

"So, he slices my stomach. But since I have no organs, it really was kinda pointless… So…"

"Did the monk die?"

"Oh, yeah, duh. I bashed his head into the wall and stomped on his brain," Beetlejuice tapped his chin, "y'know, we were actually neighbors for a bit after that… Until he moved out due to… Mysterious circumstances."

Lydia clapped her hands and giggled once more. "Can I pick another scar?"

"Sure," Beetlejuice gestured to the myriad of scars across his chest, "I have a shitload of 'em."

Lydia eagerly pointed to another curved scar that was much thinner and paler than the rest. It seemed to be entirely wrapped around Beetlejuice's neck. There was some part of Lydia that hoped it would be a ridiculous French Revolution story, or perhaps something even more exciting.

Beetlejuice frowned as he tried to look down at it, suddenly remembering that, no, humans cannot rip their heads off to view hard to see areas. He did catch a quick glimpse of the scar, however, and the instant recognition and memory struck like lightning. A cold feeling rushed over him as he let out a chuckle.

"Oh, this —" he began sputtering as his body debated whether or not he should be laughing or perfectly placid, "this is from when I hung myself. Y'know, about 830 A.D.?"

Lydia froze, her eyes widening. "Wait — you hung yourself? W — why would you…"

Beetlejuice snorted and forced a cold chuckle. "Ah, it's stupid, I mean… It's _really_ dumb, you wouldn't want to know —"

"It's not stupid, Beej," Lydia snapped, now gripping his forearm tightly, "what happened?"

"You really don't want to know, kid, it really is fucking dumb —"

Lydia sat up straight. Her grip on his forearm grew tighter. "Lawrence Beetlejuice Shoggoth."

Ah, the full name.

Beetlejuice could feel his face growing warmer which, unfortunately, was just as obvious as his hair was when it came to expressing emotions.

"Was me attempting to fling myself off of the roof stupid?" She asked.

Beetlejuice grew flustered. "Well, I — I mean, it's —"

"Was it stupid, Beetlejuice?"

_"No,"_ He snapped. He took a deep breath. "No, it wasn't. You were deeply suffering and you had no idea what to do, so you did what you thought was best — which wasn't — and were just lucky enough to be stopped."

"And I know you probably went through the same thing."

Beetlejuice winced. "I really didn't…"

_"That was really selfish of you, Lawrence. How could you not think of_ me? _Your job? There's more to this world than you."_

"Prove it," Lydia demanded.

Beetlejuice blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Prove to me that you didn't go through what I went through."

"Well, at the time, I… I didn't know if dead-borns like me could _die,_ so I…" he gulped, "I was tired and scared and — well, I did what I thought would be most efficient: a good ole hanging."

The teen shook her head slowly, her face seeming to decide what emotion she could possibly want to feel. A smile then spread across her face and she chuckled softly. “Well, that would explain why you freaked out so much about me killing myself, despite the fact we just met.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, I just assumed you were desperate for someone to say your name,” Lydia chuckled.

“There _was_ that, but I mean, y'know, bigger issues at hand…”

“So, you _did_ care…”

“Well, I mean —” Beetlejuice began sputtering.

_“Awe,_ you were a softie even before we were friends!” Lydia practically jumped into his chest and began ruffling his hair.

“I was — am _not_ a softie! Lydia —”

Lydia began squishing his cheeks and mumbling. Beetlejuice pushed Lydia back, causing her to burst into laughter and forcing herself into her lap. Lydia sighed and wrapped his arms around her.

They sat in silence for a while, staring at the wall. Suddenly, Beetlejuice stiffened. A smile burst across Beetlejuice’s face as he rapidly tapped Lydia’s shoulder. He pointed to a larger scar on his chest. “Hey! Wanna know how I got this badass scar from the Spanish Inquisition?”

Lydia’s eyes lit up. “Hell yeah!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> QUESTION TIME! PLEASE, PLEASE READ THIS <3!
> 
> So, I've been conflicted about this story for a while. There have been two versions of it, the first being this story, taking place two months after the musical. The second takes place during the "wedding". Rather than Lydia killing Beej, she knocks him out with Bad Art. The story focuses heavily on forgiveness and redemption and is less a mix of angst and silly moments like this story.
> 
> SO, that being said, should I continue on with this story and leave the other one behind OR should I make them two different stories?
> 
> If I were to write them, I would put them together in a series just for future readers to know that they're loosely connected (That being the same dumb author). 
> 
> Opinions?
> 
> (Also, fun facts: Beej's hanging [830] takes place 30 years after Charlemagne's crowning [800!], and the monk incident takes place in 1078, 20 years before the Cisterian Order [The super strict monastery that /kinda/ helped monks get their shit together] was established!)


	5. An Apple a Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Beetlejuice, Delia, and Lydia visit the doctor.
> 
> TW: Mentions of rape and non-consensual drugging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be lighthearted :))) But then it went south :))) Have fun :)))
> 
> Sorry this took so long! Online school is very stressful for my poor ADHD brain (Which God gave me for my hubris /s). 
> 
> Also!! If any of this is triggering or gives you anxiety!!! Please feel free to skip the second half of this story ("Beetlejuice gasped as the strap around his arm grew tighter with every pump.")

“Beetlejuice!”

Beetlejuice turned around, taking another sip of orange juice (It made the “taste-buds” on his tongue go wild, he _loved_ it). Adam and Barbara skidded to a halt, taking a moment to gasp for air they didn’t need. Barbara popped up first, a large, warm smile spreading across her face.

"Wow," he drawled, "Babs, no offense, but you're really creeping me out."

Barbara’s smile faltered. “Wh — Why’s that?” She turned to Adam. “Is there something wrong with my face?”

Adam leaned into Barbara and hummed. "Nope, looks fine to me!"

"No," Beetlejuice groaned, "I meant that you, Babs, smiling like that at _me_ was creepy. What gives?"

"Am I… Not allowed to smile at you?" She asked.

"No! I just — you never just _casually_ smile at me."

"I _always_ smile at you! I smile at everyone!"

Beetlejuice arched an eyebrow.

Barbara huffed and held the bridge of her nose before lifting her hand. "Yesterday, I smiled at you right when you woke up," she lifted a finger, "then at the beginning of our class," another finger, "and then throughout the rest of our lesson!" She lifted all of her fingers and shoved them into Beetlejuice's face. "I had to have smiled at you over fifty times in just one day!"

"Bold of you to assume I'm that dumb. I know you did that just to make me feel better."

_"Oh,_ don't you —"

_"Okay!"_ Adam grabbed his wife's shoulder and dragged her back. "That's not what we're here to talk about!" He scolded through gritted teeth.

Barbara's lips formed a thin line as she nodded. "Right, right."

Adam chuckled and ran a hand through his curly locks. He turned his attention back to Beetlejuice. "Well, B.J., we just wanted to… Apologize for yesterday."

"What for?" Beetlejuice took a slow sip of orange juice (To pretend he didn't one hundred percent care about whatever was happening because, _holy shit,_ did the Maitlands actually care… About whatever they were apologizing for?).

"We felt bad for how we treated you yesterday," Barbara explained, "it was cruel of us, and we shouldn't have acted like that."

Beetlejuice forced out a chuckle to ease the growing tension. "Right… How did you treat me?"

"We belittled you! We treated you like you were some… _Child,_ when you're not!" Barbara cried.

"And?"

"And that's not okay! I should've understood that you wouldn't completely understand how humans work — you've never been human!"

_"We_ should've understood," Adam corrected, "but Barbara is right. We needed to be more empathetic."

Beetlejuice's head felt fuzzy. Was that normal for breathers? He gritted his teeth and scratched at the back of his head to feel any sort of distraction.

"Uh," he mumbled, "okay. It's fine, really. I mean — I _am_ a huge dumbass, might as well treat me like one."

Barbara's eyes widened as she hurried closer to Beetlejuice. "Oh, B.J., no! You're not a… _Dumbass._ We didn't make you feel that way, did we?"

Her hands took his own and a cold shiver ran down his spine. He never really noticed how cold ghosts were. Beetlejuice had a _small_ amount of knowledge, mainly from Lydia and those he met from the past centuries, but he never physically _felt_ it.

It wasn't bad, in all honesty. Sure, he had goosebumps all over his body now, but he was still able to appreciate the contact.

"Look, you didn't make me _feel_ like anything. You're being dramatic over nothing. I just already know I'm not that bright! I mean, I can't read modern English properly, so that says a lot."

"That doesn't make you dumb!" Barbara's hands squeezed tighter. "You've got plenty of other talents. You can read literally any other variant of English, first off. You can even speak Latin! Just because you're weaker in some areas doesn't mean you're dumb."

Beetlejuice winced and tried to loosen his grip on Barbara's hands. "Babs, look —"

Barbara apparently caught on and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm not letting go until you say you're not dumb."

Adam squeaked before he hurried behind Beetlejuice and did the same. "Ditto — I think."

"That's really gay, Adam. Kinda hot, though," Beetlejuice commented.

"Your perverted comments will not deter me, Lawrence Betelgeuse Shoggoth. Also, I _am_ bisexual."

Beetlejuice groaned. "God, it's too early for this drama."

"It's never too early for self-love!" Barbara cried.

"Psh, _please._ You're already giving me all the love I need."

_Do not blush, do not blush, do not blush —_

"That's not enough," Barbara said, squishing her face against Beetlejuice's chest (And, goddamnit, he was blushing), "gotta say you're smart, B.J."

Beetlejuice groaned. _"Jesus fucking Christ, okay._ I'm 'smart.'"

Barbara squeezed him tighter. "You have to mean it!"

Adam, on the other hand, loosened Beetlejuice just a little. "We don't want to push him, sweetheart…"

Beetlejuice sighed. "Look, I'm smart. I got lots of brain cells and that makes Einstein very jealous. Happy?"

"Hm…" Barbara scrunched up her face, "that'll do, I guess. But the next time I catch you being self-deprecating —"

"You'll hug me to death," Beetlejuice chuckled, "I get it."

Barbara finally released him… Before immediately hugging him again and resting a hand behind his head.

"We really mean it when we say we care and we're sorry, B.J.," She murmured.

Beetlejuice nodded, a little dazed. "Yeah… Yeah, I know."

Barbara released him — for the final time, hopefully, and smiled. Adam had moved to her side, and they interlocked arms.

"We'll see you in a little!" Adam said as they headed back to the attic.

Beetlejuice whistled and turned on his heel.

That was _a lot_ for one morning.

He wandered back into the kitchen, deciding that one cup of orange juice was not going to help him survive the rest of the day. Of course, Delia was already at the table, reading whatever guru-y stuff she read and sipping tea. 

She looked up at him and grinned. "What was that about?"

"I don't know," Beetlejuice said, opening the refrigerator, "just the Maitlands being the Maitlands."

"Did that include loads of affection and nice words?"

"An _unhealthy_ amount."

Delia giggled. "Yes, that seems about right. You know, they've really grown to like you a lot more. They're so affectionate towards you, I'm surprised that Lydia isn't getting jealous!"

Beetlejuice slammed the refrigerator closed and almost dropped the carton in his hand. "Uh. Yup. They sure are nicer, I guess."

"Oh, did I delve into uncomfortable territory?" Delia asked.

"No, your territory is… Fine. Just surprised me 's all."

Delia shrugged and took another sip of tea. "Well, if you ever need to talk," she gestured proudly to herself, "you have your own in-home life-coach right here!"

Beetlejuice rolled his eyes and smiled. He brought his newly filled glass to the table and sat down. "Of course."

There were a couple of minutes of silence before Delia looked up at him again. Beetlejuice was scrolling through his phone (A weird yet wonderful invention; it was a gift Lydia gave him for their one month anniversary), practically forgetting the world around him.

"Hey, are you busy today?" Delia asked.

Beetlejuice looked up from his phone. "Of course not, why? Need some help with your tulips?"

"No, actually! I was wondering if you would want to drop by the doctor's office after we pick up Lydia?" She squeaked.

"Why do we need to do that?"

Delia twisted her fingers and tapped them together. "Well, I was thinking and… You're human now. You have human needs and, well, one of them is going to the doctor!"

"I still don't get it," Beetlejuice admitted.

"What I mean is: you need vaccines, an x-ray, all those other medical things I totally know about… We have to make sure you're healthy!"

Beetlejuice chuckled. "I'm sure I'm fine. I _feel_ fine. Besides, what can't a little crystal do to help, right? You're into natural medicine.

"But what if you have allergies we need to know about? Or diabetes? Or a blood disorder? I can't have you constantly be in danger! Essential oils and herbs only _do so much!"_ Delia cried.

Beetlejuice paused and leaned back into his chair.

Oh. 

He did not think of _any_ of that.

Back when he could actually _interact_ with the Surfaceworld (Before his little invisible curse — cough, cough), most of the poor breathers _he_ knew only went to the doctor for big emergencies. Little things like "allergies" or "diabetes" were nothing compared to smallpox or Consumption (Or, heaven forbid, plague). Times truly were changing.

"It won't hurt, right?"

Delia's face softened. "I can't promise it won't hurt, vaccines pinch a little, but it won't be too much," she reached over and nudged his shoulder, "nothing you can't handle."

Beetlejuice sighed and straightened his body. "Fine, let's do it."

* * *

Lydia grinned. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

The teenager tossed her backpack inside the car and hopped into the backseat. The soft echoes of other students hurrying out of school filled the air. Beetlejuice gasped dramatically and placed a hand over his chest. "My dear Lydia! I never realized my presence offended you so!"

She scoffed and leaned to punch Beetlejuice's shoulder. Delia tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and cleared her throat. "Well," Delia began, her voice booming, "I thought that today we could take Beetlejuice to the doctor and give him a checkup! Just check and make sure he's healthy."

Lydia arched an eyebrow. "And you brought me because…?"

"I just thought it would be easier! Pick you up and just drive over…"

"You could've just taken him first and _then_ picked me up," Lydia argued, "I'm not really following your train of thought here."

Delia groaned and slammed her head against the wheel, causing the car to honk. She popped back up and twisted her entire body to face Lydia. "Listen," she whispered, "you're really just here for emotional support. I doubt Beetlejuice would ever come with me if it weren't for the prospect of having you nearby."

"You do realize I can hear you, right?" Beetlejuice asked.

Lydia burst into laughter as Delia's face turned pink. "No, no you can't."

"Listen, I'm really cool with just dropping Lydia off and going with you. You don't have to panic so much."

Lydia waved her hand. "Nah, it's fine. I can just do homework in the waiting room. Besides, I want to see Beej's reaction to more modern medicine."

Beetlejuice curled his lip. "Listen —"

"Beej, you thought a thermometer was cool. A _thermometer._ I can't wait to see how you react to a blood pressure monitor."

The ex-demon blinked. "A what?"

Lydia guffawed and turned to Delia. _"See?_ Comedy gold."

Delia not-so-subtly covered her smile with her hand. She shook her head. "You're not just going to make fun of him the entire time, Lydia."

"I didn't say I was going to," Lydia smirked.

"So, you _are_ coming with us?"

The teen shrugged and fell against the seat. "Sure, whatever."

Delia grinned and clapped her hands. "Great!"

“Wait, one more thing.”

“What?”

"Am I allowed to steal a piece of candy from the candy jar?"

Delia sighed. "Of course."

* * *

The subsequent drive to the doctor's office didn't take that long, surprisingly. "It's one of the nice things about living in a small city," Delia had said.

The entire atmosphere of the clinic was _very_ different from what Beetlejuice had seen centuries ago. The most obvious, of course, was that the doctor didn't come to the household, but the _household_ came to the _doctor._ But there were the little details.

The lack of wailing from the ill and injured, begging for their lives to end, sobbing to a priest that God has mercy on them. The stench of copper didn't emanate from the building or the stench of rotting flesh. As they stepped inside, Beetlejuice took note of the nurse that hurried down the hall. She didn't wear any of the typical clothing that a nun did, nor did she show any sign of religion on her body.

A very odd sight, a very odd sight indeed.

Delia gently tapped on his shoulder. "Beetlejuice? Are you alright?"

Beetlejuice's eyes fluttered for a moment as the glassy world turned clear. He met Delia's gaze and nodded.

"'M fine," He mumbled.

The life-coach smiled warmly. "Good, I thought I lost you for a second."

"I just zoned out a bit," he said, shrugging, "lots of differences between modern doctors and ancient doctors."

"Oh, most definitely!" Delia chuckled.

"Y'know, I'm kind of surprised there's such a gap between then and now for you," Lydia said.

Beetlejuice shrugged. "It's kind of hard to understand and catch up with everything when literally no one can see you or interact with you."

Delia took the clipboard which the receptionist at the front desk gave her. "So, what did you do when there was no one to be with?"

The trio sat in three free chairs. While Delia began filling out the clipboard, Lydia pulled out her homework. Beetlejuice shuffled in her seat. "I mostly just wandered. Sometimes I'd give a Guide to a Recently Deceased, but most of the time, other people did that."

"How often were you summoned?" Lydia asked. "Someone _had_ to have tried to."

Beetlejuice snorted. "Not once. It's not like my mom would write it into any demonic tomes or anything."

Lydia sat back and huffed. "That sounds awful. Being alone for…"

"455 years and three days exactly," Beetlejuice finished.

"Case in point."

"Well," Delia chirped in an all too happy tone, "you're not lonely anymore! You have us, the Maitlands, and Charles now."

Beetlejuice smiled weakly and nodded, his face a dusted pink. "Yeah, yeah, I do."

A silence fell between them as Delia and Lydia returned to their respective writing. Beetlejuice studied the waiting room, attempting to focus on anything that could possibly catch his eye. Two toddlers played with a coloring book and iPad. An elderly woman sat across from him who looked just about ready to die at any moment. Two women, presumably a couple given the matching rings, sat together, giggling as their baby bounced in one of their laps. A couple of magazines were strewn across the table beside him, though none of them particularly caught his eye (He didn't know shit about the Kardashians and wouldn't want to know now).

But once all of the sight-seeing was over, he became painfully aware of the clock. He could hear each obnoxious tick as a second passed by. There was also the scratching of Lydia's pencil and Delia's pen as the two continued to write.

Beetlejuice sighed and glanced at the television screen on the wall. His mind perked up as he read the screen, talking about eating tons of carrots or something. He tapped Lydia's shoulder. "Hey, I knew a guy who drank carrot juice, like, almost every day."

Lydia glanced up at the screen and back to him. "What happened to him?"

"He died from a vitamin A overdose."

She turned back to her homework. "Neat."

Another moment of slow, horrible silence. Beetlejuice groaned and shifted in his seat to face Delia. _"_ _Please_ tell me you have something interesting to talk about.” He pleaded.

Delia looked up at him and shrugged. “I’m writing down our health insurance information if that’s interesting!”

“God fucking dammit,” Beetlejuice hissed.

Delia paused and looked back at the clipboard. “Ah, I guess we could do your personal information…”

“That’s better than nothing.”

“Okay,” Delia tapped the pen against her chin, "what’s your full name?”

“Lawrence Beetlejuice Shoggoth.”

“We’re going to have to change some of that. So… How do you spell ‘Beetlejuice?’”

Beetlejuice stared incredulously. “How you think it’s spelled…?”

Lydia sighed and leaned in. “It’s spelled like the star.”

“Oh!” Delia wrote it down. “Are you okay with me writing our last name instead of… Whatever your last name was?”

Beetlejuice’s cheeks turned pink. “Sure, whatever.”

Delia scribbled on the paper and hummed in approval. "Alright! Gender?"

"None."

"How old are you?"

Beetlejuice paused and looked up at the ceiling. "Well, in the Netherworld and demon years I'm 1,020," he paused and huffed, "dammit, Delia, now I have to do the math. The Netherworld runs ahead of the Surfaceworld… Carry the one… Uh…"

He looked back at Delia. "I should be about twenty-five in human years?"

"I'm sorry, you're _what?"_

"I'm like… Twenty-five?"

Delia stared at him as though he grew a third eye. She chewed her lip. "You're so little…"

"Excuse me," he scoffed, "I am literally over a thousand years old."

"No, I know! But human-wise…"

"It's not that big of a deal," Beetlejuice said, flapping his hand, "besides, you're getting distracted. What other questions are there?"

Delia shook her head. "Nothing else we could properly answer. You're a blank slate medical wise."

She stood from her chair and walked up to the receptionist's desk, giving her the clipboard.

"How do you think the doctor will react when they see all of our answers?" Lydia asked.

Delia sighed and rested her head in her hand. "I don't know, in all honesty. Beetlejuice has never been to a proper doctor before now —"

"That's incorrect," Beetlejuice interrupted, "I did see a plague doctor once, but it was for a friend."

"Different situation. _Anyway,_ I don't know if it's even feasibly possible to make sure he's completely _healthy."_

"I mean," Lydia kicked her legs out, "that's our biggest problem. All these tests are taken when humans are newborns, and since Beej turned human just a _week_ ago…"

"There's nothing much we can do other than look like horrifically neglectful parents?" Delia finished.

"Uh… Yes and no? I was just saying that it would be harder to explain, but okay."

"You could just tell the truth and say I've only been with you for a really short time. Surely they'd get it," Beetlejuice added.

"He's a legal adult in their eyes anyway, it's not like they can legally punish you over something he 'chose,'" Lydia made air-quotes, "not to do."

Delia huffed and rested her face in her hands. "I'm being overdramatic, aren't I?"

"Yes," Beetlejuice answered.

"Slightly," Lydia replied.

Delia looked up at the two and snorted, ruffling Lydia's hair, then Beetlejuice's. "I can always count on you two to ground me back into reality, huh?"

"We're just blunt people." Lydia shrugged.

A nurse peeked into the farthest doorway with a clipboard in her hand. "Lawrence Deetz?"

Beetlejuice cringed and Delia quickly passed him an apologetic glance. The trio stood and followed the nurse as she hurried down the hall.

"We're going to weigh you right here," she said as she gestured to what Beetlejuice _assumed_ was a modern scale, "just stand on top of it and be very still."

Beetlejuice followed that _mostly_ to a _T,_ but as everyone knew, especially the Maitland-Deetz household, it was physically impossible for him to stand still.

The nurses hummed in approval and scribbled down his weight. She then gestured to a ruler stuck to the wall. "Just take off your shoes and stand against the wall."

Beetlejuice already knew he was short (Hell, he was shorter than _Adam),_ but getting the exact number was definitely a bruise to his ego.

"Five feet and five inches!" The nurse said in an overly saccharine voice.

Beetlejuice glared at Lydia, who was giving him the biggest shit-eating grin. "You're shorter than me," he spat, "don't get all giggly at _me."_

Lydia proceeded to stick her tongue out at him. He would've drop-kicked that girl into oblivion if it hadn't been for the nurse leading them to a room. Delia and Lydia sat at the two free chairs beside the bed that rested against the wall.

"Just sit here," the nurse patted the bed, "and Dr. Strickland will see you soon!"

Beetlejuice threw himself onto the cushion, immediately cringing as the paper over it crinkled.

"Why the hell would they put this _here?"_ He asked as he lifted the long, thin paper.

"I think it's to keep the bed clean?" Lydia guessed. "I don't know, feels more like a waste of trees to me."

"I think it's for patients to let out their anxiety through creativity!" Delia said.

Lydia turned and stared at Delia for a moment, and then forward again. "Yeah, no. It's definitely not that."

Delia squawked in mock offense as she held a hand against her chest. Beetlejuice’s shoulders shook as he bit back roaring laughter. "My stomach feels like it's turning inside out," Beetlejuice mumbled, "is that normal?"

"Oh, of course, it is! I still get anxious whenever I have to get my flu shot," Delia affirmed.

"Don't know what you mean by 'shot', but I'll take your word."

There was a sharp knock, and a middle-aged woman entered the room. She looked rather stoic, giving the room a colder atmosphere as she looked up.

"This is Lawrence Deetz's room?" She inquired.

Delia nodded, all of the anxiety of looking like a horrifically neglectful parent resurfacing.

The woman, presumably Dr. Strickland, clicked her tongue as she looked back down at her iPad. "The majority of your medical information is completely blank. The nurse says that they've never been to a doctor before."

Delia nodded slowly again.

"But he _has been_ adopted, recently at that."

A third nod.

The stoic atmosphere broke as the doctor's face suddenly broke into a smile. She chuckled and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I'm just astounded that a _twenty-five-_ year-old has never visited a doctor," the doctor sighed, "how long has he been under your care?"

Delia bit her lip and waved her hand. "It's complicated. We knew him for a couple of weeks before he ran away…" she saw Beetlejuice and Lydia stiffen up — those heavy memories of the past dropping like the heavens upon Atlas' shoulders, "he returned two months later and has been staying with us for one month."

"Sounds like a horrible case of neglect on his birth parents and foster care's part."

"It is."

Dr. Strickland's lips set into a thin line as she nodded once more. "I guess we should get out of all this family business and talk about health, huh? So, Mx. Deetz, are there any _known_ diseases passed on by your birth family? Cancer… Or HIV?"

Beetlejuice turned to Lydia, giving her the I-have-no-clue-what-that-is-or-what-to-say look. Lydia shrugged and just waved her hand. "Nope," He blurted out.

Dr. Strickland bit her lip and shrugged. "I guess that's a starting point…"

* * *

Beetlejuice gasped as the strap around his arm grew tighter with every pump. "Holy shit, Lydia, you're right…"

Dr. Strickland paused and looked straight at him. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Don't mind him," Lydia said, waving her hand, "he's just being a weirdo."

Dr. Strickland nodded slowly before turning back to the blood pressure monitor. She continued pumping, barely acknowledging Beetlejuice's wincing as the tightness slowly became unbearable. Suddenly, she ceased pumping and the pressure released, sending relief tingling down his arm.

"Well, his blood pressure appears normal. That's a good sign," Dr. Strickland mumbled as she wrote down a string of numbers.

She proceeded to assault both of his ears and his eyes, commenting on how shocked she was that there were little signs of damage from just age alone. There was another tool she used, a stethoscope, he believed. Dr. Strickland placed the two long pieces into her ears and pressed the round part against his chest.

"Now, breathe in… And breathe out. Good." She repeated the process a couple of times, as well as on his back. "Well, all of the baseline stuff appears pretty normal. I'll have to schedule an appointment for an X-ray…"

Delia leaned in. "So, he's fine? He's healthy?"

"I'd say yes," Dr. Strickland answered, "all I have to do now is an allergy test and attempt to give him a few vaccines."

The doctor left the room, leaving the three alone once more. Lydia was the first to pipe up. "So, how is your first appointment so far?"

Beetlejuice scrunched up his nose. "Weird and confusing. She kept shoving tools at me."

"You'll have to get used to it," Lydia shrugged.

Dr. Strickland returned a few minutes later, a couple of items on her person. Beetlejuice watched as she messed with a bottle of liquid, inserting a stick into it, and sucking some of the liquid out. Beetlejuice tensed up and slightly moved away from her.

Red flags were popping up, and Beetlejuice did _not_ like red flags.

The doctor finally revealed what the stick was: a needle. She hummed softly as she grabbed a cotton swab and dropped a few droplets of alcohol on it. Without even warning him, she immediately rubbed the cold cotton against Beetlejuice's skin. She grabbed the needle and sighed.

"This is going to pinch a bit," she got closer, "there might be a reaction from this," closer, "but that's normal," closer, "and you shouldn't —"

Beetlejuice kicked himself back against the wall. "Oh, no, no, no, _no._ I know damn' well what you people do with those already, I'm not stupid."

Dr. Strickland frowned and slightly dropped her arm. "What?"

"People always go, 'Oh! This will help so much! It's so nice!' And next thing I know, I'm knocked out and wake up in some random alleyway with an unhealthy amount of hickeys and a huge-ass pain between my legs!" Beetlejuice snorted. "Y'ain't clever."

Everyone's eyes were as wide as saucers, all focused on Beetlejuice. Dr. Strickland began sputtering as she immediately dropped the needle she was holding on her desk. "Oh my God, I would never —" she turned to face Delia, "Mrs. Deetz?"

Delia stood up and slowly approached Beetlejuice. "Sweetheart, are you… Are you talking about what I think you're talking about?"

"If you're talking about the worst high in the world and then the most awkward Walk of Shame, then yes," Beetlejuice replied plainly.

Once again, everyone was staring at him with wide eyes. Even Lydia, who always chuckled at his dirtier moments in his afterlife, was stunned and pale as a sheet. Dr. Strickland cleared her throat and grabbed her iPad, finally breaking the silence.

"I think — I think we should reschedule," She murmured.

Delia nodded solemnly. "Agreed."

Lydia and Beetlejuice were kicked out of the room, the former beginning to bite at her thumb and pull at her hair. The silence between them was thick, obnoxiously so.

Cracking jokes tended to break the tension, right?

Beetlejuice grinned and turned to Lydia. "Jesus, kid, you're paler than the Maitlands. What's up with you?"

"I —" Lydia was staring blankly at the floor, "I didn't realize that happened to you."

"What do you mean?"

"Th — The drugging and the rape… I didn't know…"

Beetlejuice clicked his tongue and gently punched Lydia's shoulder. _"Please,_ that's a pretty common thing down in the lower regions of the Netherworld. Happened at least every few years."

Lydia threw herself from the wall. "Every few… Every few _years!?_ That's not — Beej, that's not normal."

The ex-demon crossed his arms and looked away from the teen. "It was normal for me."

_"Oh_ my gosh." Lydia began pacing back and forth as her more harmful stims appeared. She began biting her thumb harder and harder, the skin barely able to withstand splitting.

The door opened as Delia stepped out, thanking the doctor one last time. She met Beetlejuice's eyes and her face softened. The walk to the car was in complete silence. Only the sound of doors opening and engines starting dared to make a sound. Delia's arms fell limp from the steering wheel, her eyes looking straight forward. Lydia rested a hand upon her step-mother's shoulder.

"Beetlejuice?" She murmured.

"Yeah?"

She slowly turned to face him. Her cheeks were lined with mascara and her eyes foggy. "How do you feel about some ice cream?"

Beetlejuice frowned. "But it's almost dinner —"

"It doesn't matter."

"I — Sure, ice cream sounds nice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened.
> 
> Now for the ramblings:
> 
> For the Maitlands, I see Barbara being much more extroverted compared to Adam, so she usually is the one who shows the most affection. Adam does care about Beej though! He just has a different way of showing it.
> 
> For Beetlejuice's reaction to a thermometer: The story was that Charles was checking Lydia's temperature after she complained about feeling a little bad. Beej's reaction was very similar to that of him eating food properly in an earlier chapter. 
> 
> I completely B.Sed the math for Beej's age. Just pretend I'm really smart and put detail into that.
> 
> Finally, a little bit of Netherworld lore. The dead are /very/ pro-open relationships, free sex, etc. etc. There's way less of a risk, first of all. Second of all, a lot of couples are separated by death, and many of the dead cope by moving on (Similarly to their alive partner). Now!! The most important part!! Consent is a huge thing and is still taken very seriously. Unfortunately, there are some of the dead that think "Oh, okay. Well, I'm dead, so who cares about morals?", and that's, obviously, very bad. The good thing is that it's pretty uncommon in the Netherworld (Because I am the boss of this cruel realm and I make the rules >:( )
> 
> Delia is hyperempathetic, please give her a hug.
> 
> Anyway, feel free to comment! Tell me about what you're doing during quarantine! How is online school? And here's a weird one, is there any specific thing you'd be interested in seeing in this human!Beej verse? I like hearing y'all talk!


	6. Bring Your (Ex) Demon to Work Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles plays babysitter, Lydia is a bystander, and Beetlejuice is awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeehaw, Charles time! Sorry if he feels out of character, I'm not particularly good at writing father characters hhhh
> 
> Also!! Happy announcements!! This fic now has 122 kudos and 951 hits! I know that's probably not a lot, but to me it is :D And on the doc for this fic, I currently have 36,467 words! This includes other future chapters, of course, but that's still a p good milestone. That also means I'm about 13,533 words away from a novel (The smallest amount, at least fglkhgjdkg)

Delia was acting strange.

Well, Delia always acted strangely, but that wasn’t the point. She was acting stranger than _usual,_ and for Charles, it was a really bad time for that kind of thing.

It was one of their more… _Special_ nights. He and Delia would get all dressed up, go out to eat, and, finally, do some _private_ things. And while Delia was usually the more lively one at the table (Bless that women's optimism), tonight, she was scarily quiet. She'd barely crack jokes at the waiters or stare at Charles with her bright eyes. That, of course, set off a million alarms in Charles' head.

He put down his fork and sighed. "Are you angry at me?"

His fiance looked up at him in confusion. "What?"

"Was it because I was late? I'm incredibly sorry, Jasmine just caught me and we started chatting, and next thing I know, it's already 5:30! I didn't even —"

"I'm not _angry._ I'm not angry at anyone," Delia sighed and rubbed her temples. "I'm disappointed in myself more than anything."

Well, that definitely didn't sound good.

Delia was all about self-love, positivity, and reflection. She always said that one shouldn't be disappointed in themselves and wallow in their failures, they should reflect on what they did wrong, apologize if needed, and move on, become a better person. 

But there she was, stating clearly that she was disappointed in herself.

The last time Delia ever said something similar was when Lydia had her mental breakdown just a month ago. So, naturally, Charles hopped onto that idea.

"Is it Lydia? You two seemed to be on good terms when I came to pick you up…"

Delia shook her head. "It has nothing to do with Lydia — mostly."

Charles arched an eyebrow at that. "Mostly? Delia, if this has to do with Lydia —"

"Charles —" Delia said tensely. She took a deep breath and loosened her body. "I — it only mildly includes Lydia. I'll — I'll tell you in the car alright? I don't feel comfortable talking about it…” She looked back and forth at the other restaurant-goers, “ _Here."_

He nodded slowly, allowing himself to also loosen up his stiff body. Charles looked up and smiled, hopefully lightening the mood just a smidge. "You are having a good time though, right?"

A wary smile surfaced on Delia's face. She nodded weakly. "Other than my thoughts being a bit too loud? Yes, it's wonderful being here with you."

Dinner finished quicker than usual, both Deetzes skipping over the over-the-top flirting and arguing over who would pay the check (Although they technically shared bank accounts now) in favor of leaving the restaurant as soon as possible and having that dreaded car chat.

Charles started the car, hearing the same old tune of the engine rumbling to life. He glanced over at Delia, who was still staring blankly at the closed door. Her hand was on the handle, but it looked as though some invisible force held her back. When their eyes locked, however, something reinvigorated her limp body and the door clicked open. Delia sat down beside him, her eyes remaining focused on the ground as she placed their leftovers in the passenger seats.

"So?" Charles murmured.

Delia rested her hands in her lap. "So…"

An air of silence fell between them. Charles could vaguely hear the sound of laughter coming from a rather small group leaving the restaurant. There was the sound of a roaring engine passing by. Everything so mundane seemed so fascinating once he had to focus.

“Beetlejuice… Admitted something to Lydia and me." Delia blurted out.

Charles' head snapped back to Delia. His eyebrows furrowed, forming a knot on his forehead. "What do you mean?"

"At the doctor's office," she elaborated. "He admitted something _horrible…_ To all of us, even the doctor."

"And that would be…"

It had been a while since the Deetz-Maitland household had to deal with the repercussions of Beetlejuice's actions. The latest was when he murdered Maxie Dean a month ago (It was pretty valid, the man _did_ summon Beetlejuice to kill Charles himself) and the police came to interrogate Charles. Heaven forbid he'd have to do it again, especially if Lydia was involved.

Delia shook her head. "It's not my story to tell. All you need to know is that it was _horrible._ No twenty-five-year-old should go through it."

"Twenty-five? Isn't Beetlejuice a really old ex-demon?" Charles cocked his head.

"Well, yes. But in human years, he'd be twenty-five." Delia explained.

Charles fell back against his seat with a soft _plop._ Oh shit.

"Oh shit."

Delia nodded. "That's what I thought too."

He took another couple of seconds to reorganize his brain, shooing away every parental instinct clawing its way into him. _This is about Delia, not Beetlejuice's age,_ he reminded himself.

"So, this… Horrible thing. Why are you so disappointed in _yourself_ over it?"

Delia placed her head in her hands and groaned. "I know it sounds selfish, but I'm upset that he didn't feel okay enough to tell me."

"Technically he was if he confessed to all three of you."

"But it's _more_ than that," she whined. "He used it as a defense mechanism! I _know_ he wouldn't have ever told me if it weren't for him feeling in danger."

"Are you going to do anything about it?"

Delia fiddled with her fingers. "I am… But I need to ask you a favor first."

"And that is?"

If he had to babysit, he swore to every higher being possible —

"I need you to take Beetlejuice with you to work."

Goddammit.

"Just… Distract him a bit," she continued. "Make him happy. I just need a day to plan things out, and, hopefully, it'll all be fine."

Charles bit back a groan and opted for a slow nod. "And why can't Lydia just hang out with him all day tomorrow? She doesn't have school —"

"Because Lydia knows, Charles. He needs someone who won't be completely uncomfortable the whole time!"

_"I'll_ be uncomfortable the whole time! You know how we are…"

Delia arched an eyebrow. "You two act like a teenage boy and his dad having bonding time. It isn't that bad."

"I —"

Delia grabbed Charles' hand and squeezed it. "Please, sweetheart. For me?"

Charles hesitated, debating all final options. Delia was stubborn as a mule when it came to helping others, and he knew he couldn't just say no.

"The Maitlands?" He asked. 

One last push, he supposed.

"No," Delia said. "They're having their 'them' day tomorrow, it would be rude to disturb them."

Charles sighed and sunk into the car seat. "Be glad I love you so much."

Delia smiled and kissed his hand. "Thank you, dear."

"Of course."

The subsequent drive home was in silence, only interrupted a few times by him or Delia commenting on something they saw. The house was dim and completely quiet when they opened the door. While Delia began to prepare for bed, Charles went straight up the stairs, knowing exactly who to talk to.

"Knock, knock." He said in, hopefully, the least threatening voice possible.

Charles knew Lydia was awake, she always was at this hour, no matter what she insisted. But he still knew it was polite to knock first.

After Lydia's faint "Come in", Charles opened the door. The teen sat on her bed, leaning against the frame, scrolling through her phone. She looked up and gave a small smile.

"What's up?"

Charles winced as he attempted to word his sentence properly. "I need to — uh — Can we talk about Beetlejuice?" He murmured.

“Your wording is suspicious,” she chuckled, tugging at her hair. “But sure, what about him?”

Her father began to fiddle with his hands. "Well," he sighed. "Well, Delia wants me to take Beetlejuice to work tomorrow, and honestly? I have no idea how I'm supposed to pull that off."

"Oh?" Lydia shifted her position and leaned in. "Do you have a plan at all?"

"Of course not," Charles snorted, sitting on Lydia’s bed. "I'm about as ignorant as any other stranger would be towards that man."

Lydia's eyebrows rose. "Charles Jonathan Deetz… Admitting he's _stupid?_ Wow."

"I didn't say I was _stupid,"_ Charles chuckled. "Just ignorant. A big difference."

"Mhm, yeah, sure."

Charles rolled his eyes and ruffled Lydia's hair. "Look, I just… He and I don't get along very well…"

"But?" Lydia leaned in.

"And I'm scared I'm going to screw it up," Charles admitted, putting his head in his hands.

Lydia nodded, tugging at her hair again. "There's not a lot of ways you could really screw this up. I mean — you just ask, convince, and take him there."

Charles snorted. "I don't know… As much as I would actually like to talk, I don't think he's stepped in a ten-foot mile radius near me since 'The Juicening.'"

Lydia cackled at the use of her title. "Yeah," she agreed. "He's not very fond of parental figures all that much. Not your fault, but, y'know, it is what it is."

"So _how_ do you want me to go about this then?"

"Just… talk," she said. "That's really the best you can do for now."

"Lydia, I just told you that he won't get near me. How do you expect to talk when he acts like I have the Black Plague?"

Lydia bit her lip. "I guess I could be with him but mainly stay out of the conversation. He's comfortable around me…"

"The last time all three of us were together, Beetlejuice tried to feed me to his Sandworm because I accidentally grabbed your shoulder too hard."

"Like I said, parental issues!" Lydia waved her hands. "But if we make sure he knows he's safe, it'll be chill!"

"So you'll come with us, I suppose?"

Lydia shrugged. "Not like I have anything else to do. School's out anyway because of the feast of some archangels."

Charles hesitated, mindlessly scratching at his beard. He finally sighed. "I'm spending way too much time in this chaotic household. I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Just trust me, I know what I'm doing when it comes to Beej."

Charles got off of the bed and ruffled Lydia's hair one last time. "I know you do," he walked to the door and opened it. "Goodnight, kiddo."

"'Night, Dad."

* * *

"You want me to what?"

Beetlejuice stared incredulously at the teen sitting across from him. Lydia's eyes were large and her bottom lip stuck out, very obviously trying to guilt him into doing the ridiculous idea she just brought up. Charles stood in the kitchen, pretending to be utterly fascinated by his coffee, despite the fact it was very obvious he was listening.

Lydia grabbed Beetlejuice's hands and squeezed them. "Pretty please? It'll be nice! Dad's coworkers are _super_ friendly."

"It's not the _coworkers_ I'm worried about…" Beetlejuice muttered, glancing back at Charles.

There were a couple of things he could definitively say about Charles "Chuck" Deetz: First, he was a hulking giant of a man (He could crush Beetlejuice like an ant by just _glaring_ at him); second, he wasn't very trustworthy (Lydia's past problems reflected that, even if she said otherwise); third, Charles _hated_ him, (That was obvious).

So, no, to whatever higher beings out there, he was not a coward for being nervous around Charles.

He wasn't very fond of the idea of dads anyway.

Lydia pursed her lips as her begging eyes turned sympathetic. "Beej, you don't need to worry about —" her voice lowered, "You don't need to worry about my dad. He's a good man, honestly."

"Your original reasons for summoning would say otherwise." Beetlejuice scoffed.

She rolled her eyes. "My original reasons were out of pure panic and distress. Yes, we've had our issues, but that doesn't mean he's… _Bad."_

"He made you feel _invisible —"_

"It was a pure mistake, we talked it out and forgave each other."

"But _my_ mom did that!" Beetlejuice cried. " _She_ made me feel and literally be invisible! You literally said, 'Hey! That's unhealthy and not normal!' Why are you saying it's normal now?"

"There's a difference between intentionally hurting someone and accidentally hurting them," Lydia murmured. "My dad… He _did_ mess up when it came to my mother and helping each other cope with her loss, but he never _meant_ harm. He wanted the best, and, unfortunately, his best was all he knew how to do — repress and keep acting like everything was normal. But then we talked, and he finally knew how I personally felt and what I personally needed."

Beetlejuice crossed his arms and sighed in obvious resignation. "Be glad I love you so much."

Lydia whooped and pumped up her fist. She grabbed his hand and dragged him into the kitchen giggling. Charles turned to the two with a single eyebrow arched.

“We’re ready!” Lydia cried cheerily, almost like a young schoolgirl in one of those vintage movies.

Charles looked at Beetlejuice and cocked his head. “You’re not going to change?”

“Not like I have much else to wear,” Beetlejuice mumbled, gesturing vaguely to himself.

The man nodded and clicked his tongue, showing no particular emotion. “We’ll need to fix that.”

“Oh, we will,” Lydia said, crossing her arms.

"That sounds like a threat," Beetlejuice stated.

A small smirk perked at Lydia's lips. "It is."

A loud clap startled both of them as Charles forced an overly cheerful smile. _"Okay!_ We're all dressed, we brushed our teeth let's go!"

Beetlejuice raised a finger as Lydia took him by the hand and dragged him towards the door. "But we didn't eat breakfast…"

"Oh," Charles stopped at the doorway. "Well, Lydia and I usually buy donuts when she spends the day with me, so I thought… I thought you would want one?"

Beetlejuice ignored the fact that his face was burning up and nodded weakly. "Oh, okay, chill. Whatever."

They proceeded to the car in mostly awkward silence, only being broken by the occasional noise made by Lydia… (Or when Beetlejuice's chest suddenly felt really tight and burning after running down the hill with Lydia. Breathing was still a new concept to him, but even Lydia and Charles showed mild concern as he sat on the ground for _far_ too long. 

"When are you going back to the doctor's office?" Charles had asked Lydia.)

Charles had one of those fancy, shiny cars. Beetlejuice barely knew anything about cars, most of his knowledge came from following a manufacturer into his workplace. One of his favorite things about getting inside Delia's car was the faint smell of age that wafted through it; Charles', however, smelled strongly of leather, as though he had just bought it.

The moment Lydia buckled herself in, she pressed a button and the radio roared to life. _"Y'know,_ _I'm surprised about the game turnout as well —"_

Lydia scoffed as she crossed her arms and legs. "Seriously? You _still_ listen to sports radio?"

Charles shrugged. "It's interesting to hear what the hosts are thinking about!"

"Dad, for _five solid_ years you didn't know that you don't kick the ball in basketball."

"Well, how was I supposed to know that?"

"Even _Mom_ knew that, and she was a theatre nerd."

Charles huffed. "Who cares. Sports are confusing anyway."

He pressed a button on the screen (Cars with screens, who'd have thought?) and the speaking suddenly ceased and was replaced by a guitar solo fading out.

"That's better." Lydia chuckled.

A person began randomly talking, repeating what station they were (Which was kind of dumb since they were already on that station) and talking about some boring drama. They finally stopped, then announcing what song they were playing. Lydia gasped as guitars and drums filled the car. 

She cranked up the volume as she already began headbanging. She began singing softly, slowly getting louder as the song progressed. Even Charles, the ever stoic man, began singing along, albeit mildly off-tune.

The teen's voice grew louder, to the point where her voice would crack and the singing wasn't even actual singing. She began violently shaking her head as the chorus began.

"' _JEALOUSY, TURNING SAINTS INTO THE SEA, SWIMMING THROUGH SICK LULLABIES, CHOKING ON YOUR ALIBIS, BUT IT'S JUST THE PRICE I PAY —'"_

Charles placed a hand over Lydia's mouth. "Sweetheart, as much as I appreciate your singing, you're starting to scream. I don't want you to hurt your vocal cords."

Lydia stuck out her tongue and crossed her arms. "Buzzkill."

"You'll thank me later."

The donut shop they went to was local, apparently owned by an old couple that knew Adam and Barbara. Eating a donut with actual human taste-buds for the first time was an experience; similar to the burger the first night he became human, it was like an explosion. It wasn't a _bad_ explosion, but it was definitely odd. He wrinkled his nose as his eyes fluttered.

"Is it alright?" Charles asked, an ounce of worry seeping into his voice.

They had been working on Beetlejuice's processing of food for a little. Lydia had started with bread, slowly adding in other flavors, and spices, and such. He was getting better, but it was still slightly odd.

"Yeah," Beetlejuice mumbled. "Just a little surprising."

After a painstakingly long time of Beetlejuice nibbling on his donut, they finally left the shop, an extra box of donuts (it was an accident, really) in tow. There was another jam session in the car, this time with Beetlejuice singing along as well.

They finally parked at the office, a building that deceived Beetlejuice by appearing smaller at the front, but being ridiculously long as he looked around.

Charles closed the driver's seat door and opened up the passenger's seat door. He stared at the box. "We'll have to stop by the kitchen so I can drop off the donuts…"

Lydia frowned. "Why can't we just bring them home?"

"Delia doesn't like donuts, Beetlejuice is still too sensitive to sugar, and _you_ always forget to eat leftovers."

Lydia nodded and placed her hands on her hips. "True, true."

Charles bent over to pick up the box before he froze. "Do you think my coworkers will like them? I know Daisy likes glaze, Jon likes strawberry, Jasmine —"

Lydia gently elbowed him. "You'll be fine, dude. I'm sure your coworkers will appreciate it either way."

Charles sighed. "I know, but —"

"If you're worried about not appearing amicable," Beetlejuice cut in, "I doubt that's something to lose your hair over. Free food is free food."

Charles sighed and nodded his head vaguely. "Yes, yes, you're right."

He picked up the box of donuts, locked the car, and opened the office door. The first thing all three of them saw as they walked in was a mannequin surrounded by streamers. Charles seemed indifferent about it while Lydia and beetle sat and stared. The mannequin sat in the center of the floor, its body covered in writing and twisted in a very uncomfortable position. It was partially broken and the cheap, ratty wig that sat on its sad head was about to fall off.

Beetlejuice's lip curled. "What the hell?"

Charles hummed inquisitively before turning his head toward what Lydia and Beetlejuice were staring at.

"Oh," he said far too calmly for a man staring directly at a terrifying mannequin. "Ignore that. It's just an art installation."

"That's not going to be there forever, is it? Lydia asked, cringing. "It's almost worse than Delia's sculptures."

Charles continued walking, the duo trailing behind him. "First of all, rude. Second of all, no, it is not permanent. It's just a thing we do to help local artists."

"They should choose better artists…" Beetlejuice whispered in Lydia's ear.

"I heard that."

Lydia and Beetlejuice were led into the office kitchen. It was quite small, but not uncomfortably. Beetlejuice could hear the lights buzz above him and winced; Lydia clearly held the same sentiment as her expression copied his.

As Charles placed the box of remaining donuts on the counter, Beetlejuice looked around, immediately hurrying to something that caught his eye. "What's all this?"

Lydia turned and faced the direction Beetlejuice was standing towards. The wall before them was filled to the brim with photographs. It was a mash of colors, all conflicting yet working together so nicely.

Charles stepped forward, a warm smile on his face. "It's photographs of every employee's family. Our boss wanted to make us all feel more connected, so we did this."

Beetlejuice stepped forward and scoured the wall. "Where is your photo?"

"Oh!" Charles walked down the wall and pointed a few feet above him. "There."

The photograph was of Lydia, Delia, and her dad. It was rather new, taken by her. 

It had just been a week where all three of them would go to the beach and attempt to bond as a new family. No ghosts, no demons, no worms from Saturn; just a typical family vacation. As unexpected as it could be, Lydia warmed up pretty well to Delia… Now that the woman wasn't trying to life-coach her to death. 

Lydia had taken the picture while they were all by the ocean. It was nearly sunset and the lighting was _perfect._ What else could she possibly do other than snap a perfect photo?

It was meant to be a simple keepsake, but the moment her dad laid his eyes on it, he swelled up with pride. He showed it off to the Maitlands and _had_ to bring it to work to attach to the wall of photos, much to Lydia's pride and chagrin. It was the only photo he had on the entire wall; her dad stated that as much as he appreciated Emily, he wanted this new job to focus on the present, the now. He, of course, placed a small photo of Emily and Lydia in his office, just for memories' sake.

"We should add the Maitlands and Beej in there." Lydia murmured.

Beetlejuice's face turned scarlet. "Oh, no — you don't need to —"

"Why not?" Charles asked. "You live with us, don't you? You're part of the family."

"I… Am?"

“I mean, in a legal sense, no,” Beetlejuice wilted a little. _“But —_ you’re still part of the family in an emotional sense! All of us see you as family…”

… Now that he thought about it, Charles probably should legally add Beetlejuice into the family… And also somehow make him an actual citizen.

"That's…" a small smile appeared on Beetlejuice's face. "That's really sweet."

Lydia wrapped her arm around Beetlejuice's neck and pulled him down. "It better be mutual." She threatened.

Charles sighed as he began leading Lydia and Beetlejuice, still trapped in her hold, up to his cubicle.

"Lydia, dear, please don't strangle Beetlejuice to death. He's more delicate now."

"I'm not _strangling_ him…" Lydia whined.

"Yes, you are." Beetlejuice coughed out in response.

Charles could _hear_ Lydia conk the poor ex-demon over the head. He paused at the staircase and grabbed the duo's heads. With ease, he pulled the two apart.

"You two are going to kill me someday." He sighed.

"I've already tried." Beetlejuice shrugged.

"No, that's not what I —" Charles sighed. "You know what? Nevermind."

Lydia snickered and elbowed Beetlejuice in the ribs. He winced and punched her forearm in return. Charles spun right on his heel and glared at the duo, now attempting to appear completely harmless and innocent.

"What can I do to convince you _not_ to kill each other while I work?"

The duo turned to each other, both humming as though they were in deep thinking (But given the brain cells between the two, they probably weren't). Lydia arched an eyebrow which Beetlejuice responded with a nod. They turned back to Charles.

"Food." They said at the same time.

"Of course." Charles groaned.

Beetlejuice and Lydia were surprisingly quiet for the rest of the trip up the stairs. That being said, that obviously meant that either they were using sign language to communicate some devious plan, or they were trying to murder each other very quietly. At this point, Charles didn't bother looking behind him because, hey, it is what it is; the hellish duo was physically impossible to stop. He passed by David's office, waving to the frail man on a call. His smile grew as Lydia passed by, familiar with the young girl and her vibrant personality already. 

Beetlejuice stared blankly at all of these strangers, everything about them just feeling… Off. He grabbed Lydia's shoulder, leaning close to her ear.

"Are these people _weird_ to you?" He whispered.

Lydia turned her head towards him, arching an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I dunno, I just —" Beetlejuice hissed and scratched the back of his head, "They're too friendly."

"Too friendly?" Lydia began chuckling. "Beej, the most they did was just say hi."

Beetlejuice glared at her. "Yeah, and that's _weird —"_

Charles turned into a cubicle, about the same size as everyone else's. "It's not much," he said. "But it's very comfortable."

Lydia picked up the small pile of paper on a free chair and sat it on the ground. Beetlejuice, not wanting to feel left behind, followed suit. It didn't take too long for everyone to get comfortable; by the time Beetlejuice figured out what he wanted to do with himself, Charles was already typing happily at his computer.

Lydia leaned closer to Beetlejuice. "So, tell me how people greeting you is weird?" She whispered.

"I guess — God, now I feel stupid for saying this," Beetlejuice mumbled, smacking his face against his palm.

The teen shook her head. "It's not stupid. Talk to me."

"Well, when I was younger, I used to mainly hang around Mom's — _Juno's_ office, and it's… It's a lot different."

"Go on…"

"No one ever _smiled_ at you, let alone greet you. Everyone was cold and the most they would ever do is just glance at you. The only time they were ever nice to _me_ is when they wanted something."

Lydia bit her lip, fighting back every urge to cringe. She _really_ hoped that the last statement wasn't as bad as she thought it was. So she simply opted for the easiest reaction and just nodded.

"I can promise you that no one has some… Alternative motive," Lydia said. "I think you'll come to see that as a normal, alive Breather, things aren't as hopeless."

Beetlejuice rolled his eyes and ruffled Lydia's hair (The latter crying out and moaning about how it took forever for her hair to behave). "Hope you're right, babes."

"I usually am."

"Yeah, sure."

It was only about thirty minutes into sitting in Charles' cubicle that Beetlejuice realized how _boring_ it was — like, really, _really_ boring. Scrolling through his phone was only entertaining for so long.

Lydia seemed perfectly content with listening to music and doodling in her sketchbook. Too bad Beetlejuice didn't have the means to quietly listen to music nor the artistic ability to draw so peacefully.

The ex-demon stood from his seat, stretching before walking across the cubicle. Resting on a shelf beside Charles was a bunch of framed pictures. Beetlejuice stood behind Charles, the aforementioned turning in his chair and glancing up at Beetlejuice.

"Don't mind me," Beetlejuice mumbled. "Just lookin'."

The man nodded slowly, hesitantly turning back to his desk. Beetlejuice turned back to the shelf and leaned into it. The first picture was of a baby, presumably Lydia, dressed up in some sort of odd swimwear looking _very_ displeased. She lacked any sign of hair, the possible strands hidden by the giant baby-version of a sunhat she was wearing. The next picture was a very close and intimate shot. A young Lydia, at least a toddler in this photo, had her face pressed against a woman's. Their smiles were brighter than the Sun (And for whatever reason, the slightest hint of envy sprung in his chest). The third photo was a crude drawing, signed "Lydia: Age 8." It was that of a family: A father, Charles, most likely; a woman, Lydia's mother, perhaps; and the child, Lydia Deetz herself. Beetlejuice couldn't help but smile at the simplicity, all too similar to how he _still_ drew.

The last photo sparked curiosity. It had the most detailed frame of all, having a pink base covered in gold designs. The photo inside showed a woman, the very same as the one in the second photo, looking back at the photographer. She had brown skin, about a few shades darker than Lydia's, and blonde hair. Her smile was wide and all too similar to Lydia's. Hell, even the woman's nose and eyes were almost the same. This woman was Lydia's mother, no doubt about it.

Beetlejuice grabbed the frame from the shelf as gently as possible to get a better look. Lydia's mother definitely looked familiar, and not just because she looked like Lydia. He was sure he had seen her before —

"What are you doing with that?"

The frame was snatched from Beetlejuice's hands, causing the man to throw himself back, holding his hands up in defense. Charles clutched the frame to his chest, his eyes wider than saucers.

"I was just —" Beetlejuice stuttered. "I was just —"

Why did his chest suddenly feel so tight?

"What's wrong?" Lydia asked, slowly taking out her earbuds.

Charles looked at his daughter and shook his head. "Nothing, sweetheart, it's fine."

Lydia looked back and forth between the two men and arched an eyebrow. "It doesn't _look_ fine."

"It's really nothing —"

The teen was already in front of Charles when the man managed to spit out a single syllable. Lydia gently took the frame from his hands and studied it.

"You've got Mom's photo."

"Well, he —" Charles sputtered. "Beetlejuice grabbed it and I was worried —"

Lydia's eyes narrowed as she walked over to a still stiffened Beetlejuice. She handed the frame to him, the man hesitantly accepting it. "Worried about what?"

"I was worried he might break it."

"He's not going to break it," Lydia scolded. "Y'know, Beej can be delicate when needed."

Charles blushed. "I know, but it's an important photo —"

"It doesn't matter. You should trust Beetlejuice by now." Lydia snapped. She stormed back over to her seat and shoved her earbuds back in.

Silence fell in the cubicle as the only two unoccupied men were left awkwardly standing (Or sitting, in Charles' case) there. Beetlejuice looked down at the frame and ran his thumb across the painted wood. It was hand-painted, he realized once he got a closer look. He looked at the photograph and studied it once more. It was odd, staring at this picture and suddenly understanding a little better why Lydia loved this woman so much. It was only a visual observation, but even then, he could see the friendliness in the woman's eyes and the brightness in her smile.

"I took it on Emily's thirty-eighth birthday."

Beetlejuice looked up at Charles, who appeared to suddenly be reminiscing.

"She was so out of character, suddenly getting so anxious about looking old. Emily never cared about how she looked until then. I told her, 'You will never stop being my goddess.' And she just… Laughed. Called me cheesy."

Beetlejuice nodded slowly, glancing back at the photo. Charles sighed and sank into his seat.

"I'm sorry for snatching that from you," he said. "I shouldn't have been so impulsive."

"It's — It's fine…" Beetlejuice mumbled, his face growing warm.

"It's not. Lydia was right when she said I should trust you more by now. You don't have to forgive me."

Beetlejuice shrugged and handed the frame back to Charles. "Well, too bad. I forgive you anyway."

Charles smiled at him, and the tightness in Beetlejuice's chest disappeared and was replaced with butterflies. He tore his eyes away from the man and glanced at Lydia. The teen was staring at them. Her vision fell upon Beetlejuice and she gave a small smile.

Maybe his day wouldn't be so awful.

* * *

“Lydia.”

“No.”

“Lydia, please.”

Lydia pressed her sketchbook against her chest. They'd been at the office for a solid two hours already and Beetlejuice was doing just fine (Except maybe the coffee debacle and Beetlejuice's attempt to fight the vending machine… Which her dad surprisingly encouraged). Why now did he want to draw? Surely there were other things to do.

Her dad sighed and spun in his chair towards the two. "Lydia, just give the boy a sheet of paper." He said, exasperated.

"But —"

"Just _one_ sheet?"

Lydia groaned and rolled her eyes. She opened her sketchbook and tore out a sheet of paper. Beetlejuice hesitantly took the sheet, partially expecting Lydia to suddenly snatch it back.

"You better use it wisely." She said, chuckling.

Ah, so she wasn't _completely_ angry.

Beetlejuice nodded and pointed to the small box beside Lydia. "Am I allowed to use your pencils?"

"Sure."

He didn't draw anything particularly interesting; he doodled a couple of pictures of Sandy playing around in flowers (Now that he thought about it, how was the sandworm? He hadn't been able to see her since the whole "being alive" thing). When Sandy didn't interest him anymore, he did his best to draw a portrait of Lydia, but in his opinion (And it was a pretty valid one, he _did_ hang out with Da Vinci once — _that_ was an amazing sexual experience), it was really lacking. Her hair wasn't curly enough and he didn't get her nose right. Lydia, however, said it was beautiful. On the back of the paper, he drew the Maitlands, trying super-duper hard to make them as sexy as they were in real life — especially Adam.

Beetlejuice held out the paper and studied it. It was… It was something. Art was never really his forte, so he wasn’t very surprised. He showed Lydia again and _she_ said it looked gorgeous, and while Beetlejuice typically trusted her opinion, he also didn't.

So Charles it was.

He shoved the paper at the man, staring down at him expectantly. Charles, being Charles, reacted quite dramatically, gasping and sliding his chair back. Beetlejuice shoved the paper at him again.

"What do you need?" The man asked.

"I need your opinion on this," Beetlejuice said plainly. "Lydia's too biased."

Charles' mouth formed an _O_ and he grabbed the paper. Beetlejuice waited expectantly as Charles studied the piece from front to back. A smile played at his lips.

"This is really good!" He said. "Actually, Lydia used to draw all the time when she got home. She'd give me all of her drawings and I'd put them on the refrigerator," he looked over at a nostalgic Lydia. "We should do that again!"

"You can have it if you want…" Beetlejuice said calmly, though his red face betrayed him.

Charles' face turned a similar shade of red as he looked back and forth between Lydia and Beetlejuice. "Oh, I —"

And while Lydia gave him a look that was supposed to say, "Look, Beetlejuice clearly cares about you and trusts you enough to give you his art. Take it.", Charles, unfortunately, read it as, "Take the goddamn picture or I swear I'll drop-kick you to the moon."

Charles was flattered either way.

"I, uh, thank you," he awkwardly took the paper. "I appreciate it a lot."

_No, Charles, you cannot just casually adopt an ancient demon like a child, get your shit together —_

Beetlejuice shrugged. "'S whatever."

"No! Really, this is sweet." Charles insisted, even making a minor fool of himself by pressing the paper against his chest.

Lydia snorted and the two men turned their gaze over to her. 

_"What?"_ She said playfully. "You two were being adorable!"

"Adorable!?" Beetlejuice sputtered. "I was just giving him a gift, I wasn't —"

Lydia leaned back in her seat. "Say all you want B-Man, I know damn well what your intentions are."

Charles cocked his head. "Intentions?"

"You see my dad as a fath —"

"WOW, LYDIA," Beetlejuice shouted, covering Lydia's mouth. "I… Need to go to the bathroom! Take me to it."

Lydia rolled her eyes and hopped off her chair. "You can't run from the truth, Beej."

"Yeah, but I'll sure as hell try." He muttered.

They walked down the hall, Lydia still repeatedly taunting him. The duo knew damn well that Beetlejuice was lying, so they took the opportunity to wander while they could.

A woman stood near the staircase. Lydia gasped as she hurried over to her, dragging Beetlejuice along with her. "Hi, Jas!"

The woman turned around. She had dark brown skin and long braids that she kept back with a clip. A smile blossomed across her face as she recognized Lydia.

"Hey!" She cried. "God, I haven't seen you in _forever_. How's Delia?"

Lydia shrugged. "Still Delia."

"That's good. Hey, do you know if I could get in contact with her? I _have_ to know where she got that incense."

The teen grinned and gave finger-guns. "I got you."

Beetlejuice tugged at his hoodie awkwardly, attempting to ignore the fact that he had no clue what was happening. The woman's eyes inevitably fell on him, however.

"Who's the guy?"

"Oh!" Lydia's eyes brightened as she squeezed Beetlejuice's hand. "He's a friend!"

"A friend?" The woman looked somewhat worried.

"A _family_ friend." Lydia clarified.

"Ah," Jasmine smiled and nodded, finally properly facing Beetlejuice. "Jasmine, nice to meet you!"

The woman held out her hand, which Beetlejuice awkwardly took. They shook hands for a moment, but Beetlejuice clearly didn't catch the memo because he was still holding onto her hand.

Jasmine practically ripped her hand out of his and clutched it to her chest. "So, uh, how old is your friend?"

"He's just out of college!" Lydia cried, her voice filled to the brim with some false pride. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder as her eyes flickered to him and back to the woman.

Jasmine's eyes brightened with curiosity as the hand incident was put aside in her mind. "Oh, really? What'd you major in?"

"Oh, I —" Beetlejuice glanced with panic at Lydia.

Shit, what did he do at Julliard? The Renaissance was so wild, it was impossible to remember the details.

He dug through his brain. A well-rounded, Renaissance man typically was dedicated to the liberal arts… 

"Liberal arts?" Shit, that sounded like a question. 

Not that Jasmine seemed to mind, though. She nodded. "Sounds fun! Was there anything specific you were studying?"

Beetlejuice paled. What the hell were all the liberal arts?

"I — uh — theatre!" He blurted out. "Yeah… Theatre."

Jasmine's eyebrows barely furrowed before she nodded once more. "Always loved drama. I know Ms. Deetz over here loves theatre as well."

"I would die for Willy-Shakes." Lydia deadpanned.

"See?" Jasmine awkwardly chuckled.

Beetlejuice excitedly turned to Lydia, seeming to forget about the woman in front of him for a moment. "Have I ever told you that I met Shakespeare?"

Lydia gasped and began flapping her hands. _"No,_ really? Why haven't you told me?"

"Well, it was a really long time ago, and it was after I saw him present… _King Lear,_ I think."

"Beej," Lydia cried, "That's like groundbreaking! You got to see actual history in the making! You got to meet the coolest dude ever! How could you not tell me?"

Jasmine cleared her throat and smiled awkwardly. The duo quickly apologized, and Jasmine nodded. "So, uh, how's adult life? It can be a pain, I know."

Beetlejuice forced a grin. "Haha, yep! Oh boy, it's sure wild being an actual adult now! Taxes and student loans, huh?"

Jasmine leaned back, her lip slowly curling as confusion spread across her face. "Yeah, taxes…" she cleared her throat and gestured vaguely at the stairs. "Hey, you should go back with your dad, I'm just gonna… Get some coffee."

The woman awkwardly shuffled down the stairs and out of the duo's sight. In the kitchen, Kathy (The youngest of everyone in the office, the baby as some would call her) and Rob (A man who looked like he could kick your ass, but then will proceed to treat you like an angel) were casually chatting.

Jasmine heaved and caught the mug of coffee sliding across the table towards her. She took a ginormous sip and looked back up at her coworkers.

"Have you seen the guy following Charles around today?" She asked.

Kathy arched an eyebrow. "The brown-haired one? With the thin beard?"

She nodded. "How do you… _Feel_ about him?"

"Well, he's — he's interesting, I guess," Kathy mumbled. "I saw him try to pour glue into his coffee before Charles and his daughter stopped him."

(It was an entire disaster, really. The man all too eagerly grabbed the bottle of glue, popped the cap off, and almost poured the white liquid in before Charles snatched it away. Charles' daughter grabbed the coffee mug, and both of them began whispering vehemently at the man).

Jasmine pursed her lips. "He talked about meeting Shakespeare? Charles' kid said he was just out of college, but the man sounded like he didn't know a thing he was talking about!"

"Well, I have no clue what you two are talking about because _I'm_ on the _third floor,"_ Rob said dully.

"Then you're lucky."

"Honestly, the Deetz family is kind of weird already — if that whole haunted house debacle that happened in June says anything. I wouldn't be surprised if their son was just a little strange and unusual." Kathy said.

Jasmine sighed and took a sip from her mug. "Only heaven knows."

* * *

The next morning, Charles Deetz walked into his office with a little more pride in his chest and a little more pep in his step. In his pocket were several photos of the Maitland-Deetz household, taken by none other than Lydia — well, technically. 

It turned out that ghosts could _not_ be photographed, much to the disappointment of everyone. But, thank the heavens above, technology saved the day. Lydia had grabbed photos from the Maitlands’ old Facebook and photoshopped them into their modern house. She also added them to the family photo she took of him, Delia, Beetlejuice, and herself. There was, of course, one extra silly photo from the Maitlands with them wearing their old sheets like typical ghosts (Which, according to Lydia, they had refused to throw away said sheets after their failed attempt at scaring her for the first time).

There was also a nice portrait of Beetlejuice confidently doing a peace-sign (He originally wanted to throw out a middle finger, but Delia threatened to never feed him extra cookie-dough again) and a silly portrait of him and Lydia.

Charles hummed as he entered the mini kitchen. A sleepy Jasmine greeted him while she finished munching on a muffin. She swallowed the remaining food in her mouth and arched an eyebrow. 

"Why're you here? You never come here in the morning."

_"What?_ A guy cant casually wander into the kitchen without being interrogated?" Charles responded sarcastically.

"A guy who _never breaks routine_ is someone who should be interrogated when entering the kitchen."

Charles rolled his eyes and chuckled. "I'll be out of your hair in a second. I got to add more photos to the wall."

Jasmine's eyes lit up. "You're finally putting more up? God, I was beginning to think your entire family was made up!"

"You saw my daughter yesterday…"

She waved her hand. "Details, details. Can I see them?"

"Oh!" Charles' face warmed up. There was a feeling in his chest, one similar to when he would constantly shove the video of Lydia saying her first word into his old coworkers face over and over. "Of course!"

He gave the woman the thin stack of photos and grinned. Jasmine hummed softly as she studied the first photo. 

"I didn't realize your household was this big. You're polyamorous?"

"Oh, no — well, Delia is. Those two," he pointed to Adam and Barbara, "They're Lydia's co-parents."

Jasmine nodded and flipped through the photos. She suddenly stopped as her eyes lit up. She pointed to one of the photos. “Hey, that’s the boy who followed you and your daughter around! What was his name?”

Charles chuckled. “Lawrence, but he prefers to be called B.J.” He looked at Jasmine, who was desperately trying not to burst into laughter (Though she was failing miserably). “No, it does not stand for Blow Job.”

His coworker nodded and tried to swallow down her laughter as though it were some sort of disgusting mush. She sighed and rested a hand on her hip. “So… What is he exactly? Cousin, brother?”

“Oh! Uh…” Charles froze up.

What _was_ Beetlejuice? Sure, he was part of the family, but Charles didn’t exactly think of labels. The Maitlands were Lydia’s co-parents, Delia was his wife and Lydia’s step-mother. So what was Beetlejuice?

With Delia, she doted on him as though he were her own baby (And at this point, Charles wouldn’t be surprised if he _was;_ that woman probably had adoption papers stored somewhere). Lydia stuck with him like glue as though they were born of different mothers but together in the same womb — if one didn’t know any better, they most definitely appeared as siblings. The Maitlands would not stop giving Beetlejuice the ‘eyes’, as Lydia called them, and he didn’t want to get into whatever the hell their relationship with the ex-demon was.

So, that left Charles.

Now, Delia had said that he wasn’t obligated to see anyone as family, per se. It was all up to how he felt around people, his comfort level, and, well, how he _saw_ them. But it had been quite a bit since Beetlejuice arrived (A month and a half already), so Charles couldn’t help but see the man as some sort of family — he lived in the same house, after all. And he had been _slightly_ exaggerating when he said Beetlejuice wouldn’t stand in a ten-foot mile radius near him; they ate meals together and, from time to time, would just casually chat in the living room (Awkwardly, of course). Hell, just yesterday he pinned up one of Beetlejuice’s doodles on the office fridge, where everyone else stuck their kids’ drawings.

Charles had done it. He walked right into the emotional trap.

He just accidentally adopted Beetlejuice and it was all because he put up a picture by him.

Charles focused back on Jasmine and smiled more proudly. “He’s my son.”

"Well," Jasmine said, straightening. "He was nice to meet yesterday. Strange and unusual, but nice."

He snorted. "You know, some say it's pretty rude to call someone's kid strange, right?"

Jasmine shrugged. "Hey! I'm just saying it like it is!"

Charles rolled his eyes and allowed Jasmine to continue in her day. He attached the photos to the wall, taking extra care to make sure it was all even and aesthetically pleasing. He took a step back and studied his work.

If he had told himself just three months ago, when he first moved into the house on the hill, that he would grow an even larger family and be happy doing so, he wouldn't have believed a word. But there he was, admiring said family with all the pride a father, husband, and partner could have.

This was _his_ family, goddammit, and God forbid anyone take that away from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some angst next chapter ;))))
> 
> So, little ramblings time!
> 
> The Maxie Dean thing is just a concept I have for a maybe future reunion fic??? Basically, Maxie summons Beej after witnessing the dinner to get back at Charles, and Beej is NOT having it. I'll probably talk about my reunion concepts later fgkfkgjk
> 
> So, idk if it's becoming a little obvious, but I'm trying to write in more examples of characters stimming! For example, one of my Lydia stims is her tugging at her hair. One of Delia's is tapping her fingers and just messing with them in general. I actually have some more stim headcanons, so if y'all want to know more or share some, feel free to hehe.
> 
> The wall of photographs is based off of an actual thing my Dad's old architecture firm had! One of my baby pictures was in one of the very top corners ;P Speaking of the wall of photographs, how interested would y'all be in of a one-shot based off of Lydia's beach photograph? I thought it would be neat to see her and her parents' relationship after everything, and to see her bond with Delia!
> 
> I literally would have no clue what Beej would have as a major in college (He's such a wildcard) so I just went with theatre. If y'all have any other ideas, I'd love to hear them!! Also, one of Lydia's special interests is Shakespeare and his works, thank you for coming to my ted talk.
> 
> Anyways, that's all my brain has for right now! Thanks a lot for reading and feel free to comment about anything! How are you feeling right now? How's quarantine? Are there any Human!Beej stories you're interested in reading? Let me know!


	7. Roman Holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delia can figure everything out...
> 
> Right?
> 
> TW: Mentions of attempted suicide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is fine :) Delia knows what she's doing :)
> 
> But yeah this is the obligatory shopping chapter :))) Everything is positive :)))
> 
> And for those who could be triggered in this chapter, skip the quote after "Go swallow a fucking bullet...". You can keep reading after the italicized quote.

Sleeping as a human was incredibly weird. Typically, Beetlejuice could just close his eyes and, suddenly, _bam!_ He was fast asleep. But as a human, it took way too long to actually sleep. He’d roll around uncomfortably, and the moment he thought about how he was almost asleep, he was wide awake again.

Once he fell asleep — and when he actually needed to wake up — his body refused to move. His eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds _at least,_ and the blanket over him felt warmer than ever. How could he ignore such a loud siren song?

There was always something to wake him up, though. That something usually happened to be Lydia Deetz. Lydia was an extremely loud girl and she often enjoyed annoying Beetlejuice after waking up herself. It was either that or Delia shaking him gently and forcing him to drink water. One could clearly tell which one he preferred (Hint: It was not Lydia).

This time, however, Beetlejuice woke up with Delia staring at him from across the room.

Beetlejuice cursed and immediately sat up, all the sleep remaining in his body gone. Delia lifted one of his (Technically it was Charles’) sweatshirts, now covered in tears.

“Oh no,” she said calmly. “Someone broke into your stuff and tore it up.”

Beetlejuice snorted and rolled his eyes. This was pretty damn normal for Delia; she often tore up a few of his sweatshirts to convince him to go shopping with her. Of course, he could just summon other pieces of clothes he used to own and just wore that until she got more clothes out of Charles’ closet.

“Nice try Delia.” He said, snapping his fingers.

Nothing happened.

Beetlejuice snapped his fingers again.

Nothing again.

He snapped his fingers over and over, frustration slowly growing in his stomach. With a quick glance up at Delia, who was smirking, he suddenly remembered.

Goddamnit.

“You clever bitch.” He muttered.

Delia giggled and dropped the sweatshirt, clapping her hands. “Guess you’ll have to go shopping with me on this fine Saturday, hm?”

Beetlejuice sighed dramatically, falling against his bed frame with the amount of grace and drama a Victorian woman would have. "I guess I will," he said in a high-pitched voice. "Oh, woe is me."

"Psh, always with the dramatics!" Delia cried. She walked over to Beetlejuice and helped him off the bed. "You know, maybe you could volunteer to help out with the school musical! Lydia mentioned that Ms. Williams might need an adult for one of the roles."

Beetlejuice threw off his pajama shirt and shoved on a sweatshirt Lydia bought him with the words "This covers all of my extra eyes" (It was actually very accurate beforehand, but now… Not so much). He simply snorted in response and shook his head.

"Yeah, no. The only way they'd let a talented slob like me join is if they were _that_ desperate."

Delia gasped and grabbed his hands. "Don't say that! You are _incredibly_ talented! I've heard you sing around Lydia, you know."

He frowned. "You have?"

"Well," she winced. "I may or may not have been eavesdropping just to make sure you two were safe… And you two are adorable together."

"I don't know whether to be flattered or terrified," Beetlejuice said incredulously.

"Mm, just take it as flattery and I'll be happy."

"Right…"

Beetlejuice was dragged down to the dining room. The smell of breakfast emanated down the halls, making his hunger grow tenfold. Barbara was in the kitchen, humming softly as she cooked eggs on one side of the oven. Beside her, Charles was flipping some surprisingly fluffy pancakes.

Well, this breakfast was a lot more pleasant than usual.

Lydia finally noticed him and waved him over to her. He sat beside her at the table, still watching in complete confusion and awe.

"What's with the nice breakfast?" He whispered. Barbara had quickly glanced at him and winked. Needless to say, he blushed.

The teen shrugged. "No reason."

Beetlejuice may have only known Lydia for a month, two weeks, and several days, but even he could tell when she wasn't completely telling the truth. There was a slight lilt in her voice and she never looked directly at him.

"Right," he drawled. "Of course."

Lydia opened her mouth to speak when Adam waltzed into the room, a folded newspaper in hand. _"Good_ morning Lydia, good morning B.J., good morning Delia, good morning Charles," he hurried over to Barbara and swooped her down for a kiss. After an awkward second of silence, he lifted her back up and handed her the skillet that was left floating in the air. " _And good morning, Barbara."_

The teen stuck her tongue out and made a gagging noise, and Beetlejuice just sat there redder than a tomato.

"Get a room, nerds!" She yelled.

"Oh, so you're allowed to be all sappy, but I'm not?" Adam teased, sitting at the table.

Lydia frowned. "When have I ever been all sappy?" Beetlejuice and Adam shared a side glance. Lydia waited expectantly for an answer. She scoffed. "Seriously!"

Adam shrugged. "You know what, nevermind."

She began to protest when Adam decided to end the conversation by flicking open his newspaper. Lydia fell back against her chair and crossed her arms.

"I constantly forget you still read that crap." She muttered.

"First of all, language. Second of all, just because I live in the modern age doesn't mean I need to use every piece of new technology."

"I don't even think they drop off newspapers at our door anymore."

Adam shook his head. "Oh no, ever since you traumatized the postboy, he's refused to come near our house. Delia just steals it from a neighbor during her morning walk."

Lydia blinked. "Oh. Well, there you go."

Barbara placed two plates in front of Lydia and Beetlejuice. "Breakfast time!"

Lydia's pancake was much more intricately decorated compared to Beetlejuice, though for perfectly valid reasons. Hers had whipped cream and several different toppings to make a face; Beetlejuice's had a little swirl of strawberry syrup (One of the few sugary things he was able to eat without getting overwhelmed) for hair and blueberries for a face. It was cute either way.

The entirety of the Maitland-Deetz household began eating, excluding the Maitlands, of course, conversating over nothing. Delia went on about a mindfulness YouTuber she had found and how it really "captured her _essence"._ Charles talked about real estate stuff that nobody really understood but listened to anyway, and the latest birdwatching he had done. Lydia talked about the mundaneness of school and how "if Claire Brewster touches my hair one more time, I swear —". Barbara talked about the latest TV show she had been watching and sharing gardening facts with Delia. Adam talked about his town model and how he needed more pictures from Lydia. 

And Beetlejuice? Beetlejuice just sat and listened. Each of their human lives was so _fascinating._ When he first met them, he assumed most breather's lives were pretty damn dull and boring, but God/Satan, these people were so… So filled with experience! His life as a breather was pretty damn sad compared to theirs.

"What about you Beetlejuice?" Barbara asked.

Beetlejuice snapped back to reality. "Huh?"

"Anything exciting for you?"

"Oh, I —" he sighed and clicked his tongue. "I dunno, I haven't really done _a lot_ since the whole 'human' thing…"

Lydia snorted. "That's bullshit. You went out with dad and me yesterday!"

"Well, yeah, but that wasn't —"

"Oh, yes!" Delia interrupted. "Your drawing is on the refrigerator! It's so lovely!"

Beetlejuice shrugged. "I guess I did that, yeah."

"You also tried to drink glue-laced coffee," Charles added.

"I also tried to drink glue-laced coffee."

"See!" Delia said, pointing her fork at Beetlejuice. Her face greatly contrasted the Maitlands' look of worry. "That's a story you can tell!"

Beetlejuice cocked his head. "Y'all really want to hear that story?"

"Why not?" Barbara said, chuckling nervously. "Sounds entertaining to me."

The story itself was rather short, but goddamnit, if he could make up a completely bullshitted lie to convince an inquisitor he was actually his father or prolong the stupid musical he was in, he could make it entertaining.

After a good hearty laugh from Delia and an uncomfortable chuckle from the Maitlands, the guru eyed Beetlejuice excitedly.

"Speaking of glue-laced coffee," she said with the voice of a woman who knows this had nothing to do with coffee, "Beetlejuice and I are going to the mall! Would you like to come, Lydia?"

What an all too convenient question.

Lydia gave Delia a look that screamed, "Oh wow, I totally didn't expect this question to pop up!" But instead of expressing that verbally, she simply smiled and nodded.

"Sure," she said cheerfully. "Sounds fun."

It wasn't a few moments later when Lydia leaned close to Delia in the kitchen. "Are you sure this is going to work?" She whispered.

Delia stood up straight. Her face showed hesitant confidence, but she sure as hell was going to act like she had no doubts in her mind. "Of course! It'll all be fine."

* * *

After spending a month with the Maitland-Deetzes, Beetlejuice got a pretty solid handle on modern life. It turned out that watching society progress from an outsider's perspective was _really_ bad when trying to keep up. He hadn't even realized the Civil War started until he accidentally got shot in the chest with a canon.

Now, he'd like to say he was educated. He mostly understood technology as well as the many political changes over the centuries.

But malls.

Fucking malls. 

Once he, Delia, and Lydia began walking toward the entrance, Beetlejuice was able to fully comprehend the size of the building. It was bigger than the castles lords used to have! The outside entrance had a bunch of people casually talking or hopping in and out of cars by the sidewalk. To think there was so much life in just one building — it was amazing.

Before they entered, Lydia squeezed his hand. "Are you sure you don't want my noise-canceling headphones?"

Beetlejuice nodded hesitantly. He had been trying to avoid any other disruptions having to do with "sensory issues" as Delia called them. He hated how people stared at him when he lashed out at whatever food he was eating, he hated the glares when he got overwhelmed by candle scents. Surely the Deetzes hated it as well.

The transition between the outside world and the mall was odd. It reminded him of entering the Netherworld or rising out of a body of water. Voices clashed all at the same time, thousands of scents canceled each other out — it was controlled anarchy.

Delia gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Remember to breathe, darling."

Oh yeah.

His body loosened in relief as oxygen flooded his veins. His cheeks were still flushed, most likely from embarrassment from what he could tell.

"If we need to go outside —"

Beetlejuice waved his hands. "No, no. I need to do this."

"It's not a _need,_ Beej," Lydia said. "If you truly need to step outside —"

"Just trust me, okay? I promise I'll tell you if something's wrong."

Now it was Lydia's turn to hesitantly nod. It didn't seem to phase Delia, though, as she clapped her hands.

"Alright, Beetlejuice! Where do we want to start first?"

Beetlejuice chuckled awkwardly. "To be flat out honest, Dels, I have no clue what I'm doing."

"Oh," Delia said. "Well, most clothes you have are comfort wear, so we'll definitely have to get you some casual clothes… Oh! And you need dress clothes!"

"And underwear," Lydia added.

Delia cringed. "Oh, right. That too."

(Beetlejuice had been sharing Charles' underwear, and it was uncomfortable for both men, to say the least).

"Alright, so there's an H&M, Gap, Forever 21…" Delia continued listing things off while Beetlejuice zoned out. He didn't know what any of those stores were anyway.

Lydia smirked. "There's Hot Topic."

Delia sighed and rolled her eyes affectionately. "Yes, and that one. Though I want to make sure Beetlejuice has the basics before we have some fun, okay?"

"Oof, you're driving a hard bargain, Delia."

"I know and I'm sorry." Delia chuckled. "Now, I know Gap has the _most_ simple clothing possible. Should we start there?"

Beetlejuice shrugged. "Lead the way."

The sounds of bustling shoppers faded out as music (Too indie to be considered pop but too pop to be considered indie) faded in. It definitely changed the vibe.

Delia gestured to the entire store. "If you see anything interesting, let me know!"

"Am I supposed to know what I'm looking for?" Beetlejuice winced.

"Vaguely."

He hissed. "Ooh, bad news, Delia…"

The woman froze for a moment before shaking her head. "Of course, of course, that was dumb of me! Basically, you need enough shirts to last… around a week, pants…"

And thus the combing through clothing began. Compared to Beetlejuice, Delia and Lydia already had a hefty stack of clothes they assumed the ex-demon would like in their arms. In his stack of clothes, it was only a shirt with a pretty badass shark on it and a shirt with a Star Wars print.

So maybe he wasn't doing as well as them on this whole "shopping trip."

"You know," Delia began as she placed her clothes down in the dressing room, "It's lucky you're Charles' size! It makes all of this shopping ten times easier."

Beetlejuice chuckled weakly. “Yep…”

“You only have two things.” Lydia pointed out, nudging him with her shoulder.

“Well yeah,” he shrugged. “It’s not like I need _a lot.”_

Both Delia and Lydia stared tiredly at him. Delia shook her head and shoved half of the clothes in her arms at Beetlejuice. “How about we sort through the clothes you like and then try them on, hm?”

That being said, the majority of sorting was just Beetlejuice humming vaguely and Delia having to guess from that. Beetlejuice autopiloted himself into one of the changing stalls, collapsing onto the bench inside. The stall was cramped and bright with false lights. The only reassurance he had that he was still in his reality was the soft echoes of the speaker above him.

He slowly began to tear off his shirt, stopping halfway, staring blankly at his chest. He poked the scar in the center of his chest. It was weird to think that something so minuscule could be so impactful to Lydia (And perhaps even him). The Maitlands said that scars don't hurt — physically, at least. But whenever Beetlejuice grazed the scar, there was this sort of… Phantom pain that sent shivers down his spine.

But rather than dwell on all that, he continued taking off his shirt and throwing it aside. He, of course, paused and stared at himself in the mirror (Because what else would any self-obsessed ex-demon do?) and found something else entertaining to focus on.

His fingers ran across the stretch marks on his stomach. They were another new addition to his body, joining the array of off-colored marks on his skin. One could not imagine the confusion he experienced when he discovered them; it took Lydia having to look at his marks and explain what they were for him to calm down.

_"Mom always called them her braille."_ She had said.

It took a solid five minutes to ensure everything he wore would fit, but unfortunately, he wasn't very graceful doing it. The number of times he slammed against the door or wall caused Delia or Lydia to check on him multiple times. The lucky thing was that he was able to escape that small hellhole with only _one_ bruise.

Delia grinned as she picked up the pile of clothes. "Are you ready to check out?"

"Uh, sure…" He mumbled. 

And then he paused.

He did a quick mental count of all of the clothing in Delia's arms and his eyes widened. "Good God/Satan, Delia, you are _not_ buying me all this shit."

"Yes, I am," she snapped. "You need clothing and I know Charles won't mind us spending our money on things for you — I don't."

_"Delia."_ He whined.

"Nope, not hearing another word of it!" She placed all of the clothing onto the counter and smiled brightly at the tired cashier.

It was pure agony watching and hearing each scan. Lydia even had to pull him back after the amount entered triple digits. 

"It's necessary." She reminded him.

In total, Beetlejuice came out of that store with ten new shirts, four pairs of pants, and two packages of underwear as well as socks. He still had a vague concept of money, but even he knew it was hard to get, which meant that triple digits were a definite no-no. But Delia still walked calmly beside him, not a yell or complaint in sight. In fact, she was _encouraging_ him to buy more.

“Oh, that jacket would look great on you!” She commented as they passed a random shop.

From shop to shop, Delia (And sometimes Lydia) would point out anything and everything that caught their eye. Beetlejuice came out with at least _one_ item of clothing each time.

Things went rather smoothly, to say the least. The worst thing that happened was shopping for dress clothes. First, Lydia complained that nothing was interesting at Macy's because it was for "rich, white ladies who go to church every Sunday." (Which Beetlejuice couldn't argue with, mainly because he had no clue what was at this "Macy's"). 

The second incident was Delia's pure lack of awareness. She had grabbed a red jacket paired with a shirt of the same hue. Excitedly, she had turned around and shown it to Beetlejuice.

"What about this?" She had asked. "I think red would be a nice color on you!"

Both he and Lydia shared awkward glances at each other before looking back at Delia. Delia watched Beetlejuice expectantly.

"Y'know," Beetlejuice mumbled, hoping the clear discomfort between him and Lydia would clue Delia in, "I don't think red is a… Very _appropriate_ color."

One second passed.

Then two.

_"Oh!"_

Delia shoved the jacket and shirt back onto the rack, chuckling nervously. "Right, right, of course."

They left the store soon after, deciding that the dress clothes escapade could wait another time.

Now they were at that edgy store Lydia liked (Or what she called "Her realm). Beetlejuice stared at the figures before him while Lydia scoured the button rack ("No, not to _'steal'_ them. What are you talking about?").

…

("Okay, maybe one.").

Beetlejuice planned on just wandering off, letting Lydia get caught or possibly get tetanus from all those mysterious pins… Until he saw _it._

The "It" he had seen was a dress hanging on a rack high on the wall. It had black and white stripes, it had a collar… It was _perfect._

Beetlejuice began repeatedly tapping Lydia. "Lydia, Lyds, Babes, Scarecrow, Lyds —"

"Jesus Christ, what?" She snapped.

"Up there…" He whispered, pointing up to the holy object before him.

It took a moment for Lydia to find what he was pointing at. "The dress?" She asked.

"Yeah! Look at it! It's gorgeous!"

All of the mild annoyance faded from her face and was replaced with a smile. "Do you want it?" He nodded excitedly. "Alright, chill with me. Go ask one of the employees to get it."

"Wait — I have to _ask?"_

"Well, duh. How else are you supposed to reach it?"

"I dunno, I just thought…" He began to shrink in on himself.

His Ma didn't like him wearing anything deemed feminine. Nobody else in the Netherworld or Surfaceworld seemed to like it either. The number of words thrown at him was tiring, to say the least.

"If you're too shy, I can ask for you." Lydia offered.

Beetlejuice nodded meekly and began scratching the back of his head. Lydia walked up to the employee and spoke to them like they were just another friend (Beetlejuice did _not_ envy that at all, shut up). The employee did frown when Lydia asked for an extra-large, but the moment they eyed Beetlejuice, all of the confusion faded away and they nodded kindly.

The moment he slipped on that dress in the dressing room, a burst of giddiness spread in his stomach. He grinned like an idiot and flapped his hands excitedly.

He looked _cute!_

Beetlejuice opened the door and spun around in front of Lydia. The teen clapped her hands, _not_ in mock joy (What a reliever that was), and grabbed his hands.

"I've never seen you in dresses before! It looks good!" She complimented.

Beetlejuice bit his lip. "Really?"

"Really."

Delia had popped up behind Lydia and Beetlejuice immediately wilted. He expected the woman to stare at him judgingly or _something,_ something to convince him he was wrong. but instead, she smiled.

"You look adorable!" Delia cooed. She then clicked her tongue. "Why didn't you tell me you wanted dresses! I would've gotten you some!"

His faces warmed. "Well, I didn't think — I didn't think you'd be okay with it —"

"Okay? _Okay?"_ Delia burst into laughter. "Sweetheart, I live in a house with two ghosts and an ex-demon and I'm perfectly content with it. Do you _really_ think I'd let you wearing a dress bother me?"

"I — I guess not."

Delia's smile softened and she placed a hand on Beetlejuice's cheek. "Exactly. All that matters is that you're comfortable," she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Now come on, go pick out some other dresses you like."

With the help of Lydia, he amassed a decent number of dresses. Beetlejuice even got on that went down to his _ankles_ (It made him feel regal, in all honesty). He was beaming the entire time, somehow completely forgetting any possible judgment that could be passed his way.

They left the store and, due to Lydia's complaints, got something to eat. The entire time, Lydia infodumped about Macbeth and the intricacies of Macduff because apparently "Nick just doesn't get it."

Getting to the end of the mall was somewhat relieving as Beetlejuice became aware of how exhausted he was. He never really thought about how much energy his body could store. It was to the point where he was ready to just ask Delia if they could leave when a certain instrument caught his eye.

Beetlejuice walked up to the window displaying a ukulele, a sudden discomfort rising in his chest.

Delia walked up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you already have a ukulele? I’ve seen you play it!”

“I _had_ a ukulele,” Beetlejuice muttered. “The moment I became alive, I lost all of my abilities. That includes getting shit out of my suit pockets.”

Delia’s face fell as she clasped her hands together. “Oh. Oh dear, I didn’t realize…”

"Eh, 's fine. Material objects aren't that important to you gurus anyway, right?"

Delia didn't seem to acknowledge Beetlejuice and instead grabbed his hand tightly.

"Oh, uh, Delia —"

The next thing Beetlejuice knew, he was being dragged by Delia into the shop, a cackling Lydia following them. Beetlejuice managed to plant his feet on the ground, halting the woman for a moment.

"You aren't seriously buying that, are you?" He asked.

Delia scoffed. "Of course I am! You said you lost yours!"

"But we already spent a shitload on me —"

"Sorry," Delia said loudly, already flagging the first employee she saw. "I can't hear you over the sounds of buying this ukulele for you!"

Needless to say, Beetlejuice stepped out of the store with a brand new ukulele. Lydia was studying it, running her fingers across the smooth wood.

"Dude, we're going to have to repaint this." She said.

Beetlejuice grinned. "I'm assuming you've already planned a design?"

The teen nodded. "Hell yeah."

Delia had pulled them to the side so that she could "take a call", but Lydia, with her text messages already open, knew well what she meant.

**2:35 P.M.**

**Crystalmom:** Are you willing to hang out in the bathroom for a bit?

**Me:** wait ur confronting beej at the mall???

**Crystalmom:** No! Just setting up the conversation.

**Me:** idk isnt that a bit risky?

**Crystalmom:** Maybe, but every intervention has SOME risks.

**Me:** ur the life coach

**Me:** k come back and ill go

**Crystalmom:** Thank you!! <3

Delia _did_ indeed come back and Lydia shot straight up from the bench she and Beetlejuice were on.

"I'm gonna go… Uh… Pee." She mumbled.

Lydia hurried off to the restroom, slamming a stall shut. She sighed, hesitating before slamming her head against the door (Hey, there might have been germs).

She really wanted to trust Delia, she really did. But there was that nagging feeling in her guts _telling_ her this wasn't going to work. She knew Beetlejuice, she knew he wasn't very comfortable talking about himself — _especially_ when he wasn't using self-deprecating jokes.

_But Delia's the life_ _coach,_ she scolded her inner self. _Not you._

Lydia sat in the stall for about five to ten minutes scrolling through Tumblr before she decided to leave. Hopefully, if everything went well, they could all go home and be a happy family.

Her pessimist side said that was unlikely.

And, oh, how correct it was.

Beetlejuice and Delia stared at the floor, the space between them wider than before.

Yeah, something went horribly wrong.

* * *

Lydia hopped out of the car and entered the house in silence. The Maitlands were sitting at the dining room table; their eyes lit up when the three Deetzes entered.

Delia grabbed Lydia's shoulders. "Lydia, room?"

She frowned. "Wait, but —"

"Room, _please?"_

The teen huffed in annoyance, deciding that arguing just wasn't worth it. She shrugged Delia's hands off. "Sure, whatever."

As the teen stormed upstairs, Delia sat beside Barbara. She looked up at Beetlejuice, hoping her eye contact was enough of a sign for him to come over; clearly, he ignored it, deciding to lean against the wall across from her.

"What's going on?" Adam asked, his voice hushed.

Delia sighed. "Well, Beetlejuice and I —"

"Delia and I didn't do anything," Beetlejuice snapped. "Nor will we do anything _now."_

She frowned and abandoned her spot at the table, walking towards him. "Beetlejuice, please."

The ex-demon held his hands up. "Look, y'all are making too big a deal out of all of this. I'm _fine._ My brain is completely A-okay," he began walking toward the staircase. "You can rest easy now, 'kay?"

"Don't walk away from me!" Delia yelled.

"Already am, Dels." Beetlejuice even held up a peace-sign.

"Beetlejuice, this is _serious!_ We can't just ignore —"

He spun around. "Delia, I'm a goddamn grown man, I can deal with my own problems!"

Beetle began walking off again and Delia grabbed Beetlejuice's shoulder, causing him to spin around quickly. His eyes widened and every single part of his body stiffened, even his hair. Delia immediately recognized the signs and loosened her grip on him as well as softening her face. She sighed and tried to maintain eye contact, despite the fact that Beetlejuice was _adamant_ to look anywhere else.

"Beetlejuice, sweetheart, it's not good for you to bottle everything up," Delia chuckled and shook her head. "I mean, I've got a goddamn psychology degree and even I need outside help sometimes. There's nothing wrong with just talking —"

"Listen, Debra, why don't you stop acting like my fucking mom and just leave me alone?"

"I —"

Beetlejuice pointed at the Maitlands. “And you, can you stop acting like I’m so delicate? I don’t need this, I don’t _need_ any of you.”

He shoved Delia back and stormed up the stairs, leaving only her and the Maitlands alone. Delia immediately regained her composure (God forbid she break down in front of the Maitlands **as** she had once with Lydia) and sighed. Two hands rested upon her shoulders and the weight of standing became so very evident.

Another hand gently placed itself on Delia's jaw, turning her head and facing her toward Barbara. The woman gave a sympathetic look. "Delia, I'm sure he didn't mean anything bad. He's just… _Rough_ around the edges."

Delia bit her lip as her eyes began to prickle. 

_Goddamnit._

"I know, but how long? How long has he been suffering through this? I can't just _let_ him keep bottling everything up…"

"But you also can't force him." Adam murmured.

"Yeah," Delia whispered, rubbing her temple. "Can you do me a favor? Tell Lydia to leave Beetlejuice alone for a while."

"Of course."

* * *

Over the centuries, Beetlejuice figured out that loneliness provided a lot of things. Mainly it gave him a lot of time to reflect, get some introspection. Unfortunately, that also meant that he realized how much of a douchebag he was, and kind of somewhat embraced it. At the time, the likelihood of anyone summoning him was pretty damn slim, so if he couldn't interact with anyone but the few people that popped up dead in the Surfaceworld every once in a while, what was the point of getting better?

But then the tables turned as Lydia Deetz waltzed into his life, followed by the rest of the Deetz and Maitlands.

 _They_ could see him, and from what he could tell, none of them planned on leaving anytime soon. So, obviously, that just left Beetlejuice with the option of leaving, and he happily took it. He used that bullshit excuse of "soul-searching" and "finding his father" (Who he did actually find, because honestly, who else in this entire universe had the last name Shoggoth) and ran back to the Netherworld… Just to be summoned back to the Surfaceworld after three months.

So, there he was, stuck with another boring, rich dude, who, in the most obnoxious turn of events, wanted to kill Charles. Then there was the murder of the summoner, then reuniting with Lydia, blah, blah, blah. The point was that he was at his best when he was alone.

Too bad the Maitland-Deetz stuck to him like glue, no matter how much he or they protested. But Beetlejuice always found his way, and, currently, that way was locking himself in his bedroom and curling up in bed. There was no way in hell anyone could bother him — unless they were the Maitlands… Who were ghosts… Who could walk through walls…

Goddamnit.

Beetlejuice sat up and groaned, rubbing his still wet, puffy eyes. He prepared to go through the impossible task of lifting his body when there was a commotion outside of his door. 

He rolled himself off of his bed, landing clumsily onto the floor. He crawled up to his door, pressing his torso against the ground as he peeked through the gap under his door.

Two pairs of feet were walking by the door, finally stopping when a third pair stomped by. He could faintly hear Lydia's voice. What she was saying was much clearer when she got closer.

“ — This _bullshit!_ I _know_ I can help him —”

“Lydia!” Barbara snapped.

Beetlejuice could practically _hear_ Lydia stiffen and stumble back, her faint shadow shown through the door proving it. Someone sighed, assumably Barbara. “Lydia, you know how sometimes you need alone time? Well, Beetlejuice needs that right now. Surely, you can understand that, right?”

“But —”

Someone else stepped forward. They kneeled in front of Lydia.

“Just trust us, okay?” It was Adam. “We’d do it — we’ve _done_ it for you before.”

“Besides,” Barbara added. “If he wants to see you, he’ll call you; he always does.”

Lydia grumbled something under her breath. A door slammed and silence filled the hallway once more. There was another sigh as Adam stood and Barbara began pacing.

“I hate this,” she whispered. “Now _everyone’s_ upset and we can’t do anything about it.”

Stupid Barbara and her stupid compassion.

“The Deetzes just need time. Remember what we told Delia? We can’t just force them to do anything.” Adam replied.

Stupid Adam and his stupid wisdom.

“Yeah, but it’s annoying.”

Adam chuckled and kissed Barbara. “Being a bystander always is.”

Beetlejuice bit his lip as he shut his eyes. He could feel the roughness of the carpet, each little bristle-like a forest of trees. As his body sank into the floor, he released the tension in his chest and let himself sink into the unknown of sleep.

* * *

It was a door creak that woke him up.

His eyes felt heavy as he opened them. The entire room was covered in darkness, the telltale sign that he had slept _way_ too long. His mouth felt sticky and his lips were incredibly dry. He looked up at the only light source in his room and made contact with Delia’s legs. The woman looked hesitant, one hand clutching her dress and the other holding the door.

Beetlejuice sighed as he sat up, his joints and muscles beginning to wake up. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I wanted to —” her eyebrows furrowed. “I wanted to talk.”

“What, you somehow forgot how that went earlier?” Beetlejuice snapped.

Delia flinched. Her nails stabbed into the door as her lips formed a thin line. “No, I just —”

“Jesus Christ, Delia. Just spit it out.”

“I’m _trying to,”_ Delia hissed. She paused for a moment, looked away, taking a deep breath, and turning back to him. “If you don’t _interrupt me,_ I can explain.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“I wanted to apologize. I wanted to — I want you to know that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have forced you to speak, especially in front of the Maitlands.”

"It's whatever." He muttered.

"But it's not…" Delia said, walking over to him. "I put myself in a position of power that was unhealthy for both of us. by doing that, I made you feel uncomfortable and afraid, and —"

Beetlejuice sighed. "Okay, if you want me to forgive you or whatever, how about you start by not inserting words into my mouth?"

"What?"

"Don't fuckin' _assume_ I felt something and assert that I did. 'S annoying."

Delia nodded hesitantly. "O — Okay," she sat beside him, "Then how _did you_ feel?"

"Well, I — um. I _did_ feel uncomfortable, being put on the spot like that. I also felt, uh, _betrayed_ because it kinda felt like you buttered me up just so I would actually talk to you. I dunno."

"I completely understand. The whole shopping expedition _was_ sort of manipulative now that I think about it," she chuckled, "Lydia _did_ warn me about that."

Beetlejuice shrugged. "I guess it's nice to know that you cared enough."

Delia leaned in. "Of course I care! I wouldn't be worried if I didn't!"

"Yeah, about that. I _still_ don't get why you and Lydia are freaking out so much." He mumbled, squinting his eyes.

Delia sighed and leaned against the wall. "Lydia said that you thought everything you confessed was normal."

"Because it is?"

“If it’s so normal for you, then why were you afraid of Dr. Strickland pricking you?”

Beetlejuice shrugged and hugged his legs close to his body. “I don’t know! I guess I don’t want to get hurt again? I mean, yeah, it was normal, but it still _hurt.”_

“Then it isn’t normal,” Delia murmured. “It’s not normal to be afraid of getting hurt over something harmless.”

“Is there something wrong with me then?” His eyes grew wide.

“Well, yes,” Delia admitted. “But not in the way you think. It’s not wrong, per se, but… Difficult. You were hurt, Beetlejuice. Your mind was damaged in a way that your body is constantly alert. Adam and Barbara explained brain chemicals, yes?”

“Vaguely,” Beetlejuice mumbled.

Delia nodded. “Now, let’s say you had a human brain before all of this happened. When you’re stressed, your brain releases chemicals like CRH, ACTH, and cortisol. These typically aid in fight or flight response. Do you understand?”

Beetlejuice nodded.

“Good. Typically, this fades once the stress is all over. But with you, every traumatizing experience you’ve ever had adds up. The stress keeps adding on and on, until, finally, your mind doesn’t know how to react to it.”

_"There's no reason for your hair to be purple, Lawrence. God, you're only what? A_ _few centuries-old now? I shelter you, I care for you, what is there to be sad about?"_

_"Godammit, you're so selfish."_

_"Come on, don't be so stuck up, it won't hurt_ that _bad."_

_"It hurts, doesn't it? Well, now you know how it felt raising you for millennia."_

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"You stabbed him!"_

_"That's the point."_

_"I mean, I saw the way you 'n her were standin' together like that. If you don't wanna kill her, I'd_ completely _understand. She’s an attractive young girl."_

_"Go swallow a fucking bullet, Beej."_

_"Why did you stop me? I thought you wanted me to kill myself."_

Beetlejuice scratched at his wrist. "And is that bad?"

Delia shook her head and took Beetlejuice's hands. "It's never a bad thing. Reacting to trauma itself _isn't_ something worth condemning."

His eyes began stinging as tears gathered. He felt like he practically might explode, everything in his mind going blank.

“I just… I don’t think I can talk about everything yet,” Beetlejuice began scrubbing his eyes. “I know it’s stupid, I know, but I just —”

He bent over, a sob ripping itself from his throat. Beetlejuice clutched his body tightly and scratched at his arms. Delia wrapped her arms around and rocked back and forth.

“It’s okay,” She murmured. “It’s not stupid, sweetheart. You’re already _so_ brave for letting me in; you don’t have to keep pushing.”

“But it _hurts so much,_ and I _want_ to say something, but every time it gets stuck on my tongue and I get all emotional and —”

Beetlejuice collapsed into Delia’s chest, now a sobbing mess. Delia began humming softly, brushing her fingers through his hair (It helped Lydia, so perhaps it would help him). She rested her jaw on his head and sighed.

“How can I keep living like this?” He squeaked.

“Just take it one step at a time,” Delia whispered. “No one’s forcing you to do anything right now.”

A tear fell from Delia’s eye and then, suddenly, dozens of more streams fell. She chuckled and leaned back from Beetlejuice, wiping her cheeks. Black smudges stained her fingers. “Ah, look at that. I let the waterworks out and now my makeup’s all ruined.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to —”

Delia waved her hand. “It’s nothing. I needed a good cry anyway.”

The ex-demon nodded hesitantly. He slowly rested his head against Delia’s chest, feeling the soft rising and falling. His eyes rose to her jawline. "Hey, Delia? Can I ask you a _really_ stupid question?"

"O — of course…"

"Can you…" He bit his lip. "Could you do my makeup? Just for fun? I mean, you just said your makeup’s ruined and you’ll probably want to redo it…”

Well. That was not what she expected 

Delia immediately nodded. "Sure! I have tons of stuff in my room if you want to follow me —"

"I… Kinda want to stay here."

Delia chuckled. "Alright. Wait here, I'll be right back. Okay?"

Tonight, Delia decided, wasn't going to be as dull as she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys welcome back to my youtube channel where I discuss the many reasons why Beej needs therapy.
> 
> Sorry this took so long!! Almost two weeks :(( It's the same typical excuse, of course, I got some major writer's block and having ADHD did not help with that.
> 
> Anyway, with Beej and the modern age. I personally think that he /was/ aware that changes were going on around him, it was just the issue of having no human interaction to help him figure out what it was. One of the biggest parts of history is the social aspect of it and Beej, unfortunately, was lacking that.
> 
> Delia explaining PTSD was actually inspired by Steven Universe: Future! Let's just say that that episode and the episode beforehand made me c r y. Stuff talking about trauma tends to hit a little harder.
> 
> Once again, I referenced my concept of my reunion fic with the last three quotes of Beej's memories. First is Maxie, who I've hinted at before, just being a creep. It really doesn't help Beej's psyche, mainly due to the fact that Beej harbors SO much guilt about the whole child marriage thing. He definitely had to reiterate to Lydia a lot that no, he didn't like her that way and it was disgusting and unhealthy. The second two quotes... Are a secret. Technically, they'd count as spoilers if I'd GET UP AND KEEP WORKING ON THAT REUNION FIC >:(((!!! So, I'll just keep them mysterious for now.
> 
> Thanks a lot for reading and feel free to comment about anything! How are you feeling right now? How's quarantine? Are there any Human!Beej stories you're interested in reading? Let me know!


	8. Sick Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beetlejuice has his first sick day and to put it simply, it is an odd experience.
> 
> TW: Mentions of vomiting and blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! A chapter that's actually on time for once? And not taking over a week to post? INCONCEIVABLE!
> 
> (Please get that reference, please).
> 
> As always, if you are triggered by vomiting or blood in any way feel free to skip. The lines to skip over for vomiting are after "'Lydia will be fine, she just needs —'" to "Lydia finally held her head up." There is also a very mild mention of it and isn't very graphic, but I'll mention it anyway. Just skip the last two paragraphs after "'...but I like your company, so whatever.'"
> 
> For blood, The lines after "… That was somewhat of a good sign." to "Beetlejuice's breath hitched." As well as the sentence after "He ignored her and Delia's protests and stormed down the stairs."

"Delia, I'm dying."

Delia rolled her eyes and bit back the smile threatening to burst across her face. "No, you're not. You just have a fever."

“Funny,” Beetlejuice muttered. “That’s what an old acquaintance of mine named Roger said before he started puking blood.”

“And when did Roger get sick?”

“Uh… 1350?”

Delia nodded. “Well, there you go. We’re not suffering through the Bubonic Plague right now, are we?”

“He didn’t just catch the Plague, though,” Beetlejuice argued. “He got Consumption too.”

Delia looked away for a moment, her eyes narrowing as she muttered “Consumption” to herself. She held up her finger and pulled out her phone. About thirty seconds later, she turned back to Beetlejuice and smiled. 

“I assure you, we have much better technology to deal with Tuberculosis now.”

“That’s what Roger _also_ said, but guess what! He still died and I had to give him a Guide!” Beetlejuice let out a mix between a whine and a wail. “I’ve only been alive for a week and one day and I’m already dying! What _bullshit!”_

Delia sighed and brushed the strands of hair stuck to Beetlejuice’s sweaty forehead away. Her face softened as his body became less stiff. “You’re not dying,” she murmured. “I promise. And, hey, if you genuinely feel like your life is in danger, we’ll take you to the doctor. Okay?”

Beetlejuice grumbled and nodded. “Just promise that they won’t stab me with any more needles.”

“Well, I can’t promise that completely,” Delia chuckled. “But I _can_ promise they won’t poke you with any more needles than necessary.”

“Eh, that’s good enough.”

Delia let out another hearty laugh and hopped off of the bed. She adjusted the rose quartz on his bedside and opened the door. “I’ll be right back, I just have to check Lydia’s temperature and feed her some ibuprofen. Poor girl is just as sick as you!”

Beetlejuice abruptly sat up.“Wait — _Lyds_ is sick?”

Delia blinked owlishly. “Oh, well, yes. She caught whatever you have.”

_“I_ got Lyds sick!?”

She held her hands up. “No! Well — I don’t know. You both got ill around the same time… I’m just assuming that someone at your father’s office got you two sick — or perhaps the mall…"

"No, no, no, she can't be sick —" 

Beetlejuice threw himself off of the bed, immediately having his vision spin, and the world around him became dizzy and uncomprehending. He stumbled to the door, only to be stopped by Delia's hands grasping his shoulders.

Delia turned him around and cupped his face. "What are you doing? You're going to make yourself even worse! Lydia will be fine, she just needs —"

There was a horrific retching sound.

"Speak of the devil…" she murmured.

Lydia's body was sprawled over the floor, her head barely reaching the toilet in front of her. Beetlejuice shoved Delia away and sprinted to the teenage girl. He grabbed her waist and pulled her away from the toilet. Her eyes were cloudy with fever as she looked up at him with the utmost confusion.

"Beej? What the hell are you —" she gagged and pushed Beetlejuice away from her, once again returning to the toilet seat.

Beetlejuice winced as she practically vomited her organs out. He leaned over her, pulling her hair back, as to avoid Lydia being greeted with a curtain of vomit-covered hair in her face. Delia stood at the doorway clutching her skirt.

Lydia finally held her head up. She leaned back moaning. Beetlejuice gently pushed Lydia out of the way, checking her vomit to make sure there wasn't any trace of blood.

There wasn't a droplet — yet.

Delia had finally moved from her place in the doorway and began to help Lydia stand.

Lydia could stand… That was somewhat of a good sign.

And then, a stream of red burst from the teen's nose. Both women yelped, Lydia immediately rushing to the sink and Delia following suit. 

Beetlejuice's breath hitched.

Suddenly, any glimmer of hope that Lydia would be fine disappeared. Beetlejuice could be dying. He could have his organs falling out, blood spurting from every orifice… But Lydia?

Good God/Satan no.

Lydia _deserved_ to live. She was a _child._ There were so many things she deserved to see and experience. she shouldn't die from Consumption or the Plague; nothing as horrific as that.

Delia was being obnoxiously calm, each soothing whisper grating against Beetlejuice's mind. She was a grown woman! How could she not _possibly_ comprehend the magnitude of the situation? Her daughter was bleeding… And she was _whispering._

He stood up shakily, storming over to the two. His arms wrapped tightly around Lydia's waist as he lifted her and held her bridal style. He ignored her and Delia's protests and stormed down the stairs. Warm blood ran down his arms and shirt, but he paid no mind; he could care about clothes _after_ Lydia is safe.

"What the hell are you doing?" Lydia cried. Her voice was horrifyingly weak, too weak.

"Stop talking. You'll waste energy," he snapped. "I'm taking you to the doctor because, clearly, _Delia_ doesn't know how to deal with you."

Lydia sputtered. "Delia doesn't — Clearly _you_ don't know what you're doing if you're letting me bleed everywhere! C'mon, dude, take me back to my room, I feel like shit."

She desperately tried to wriggle out of his clutch, but the weakness of both of them really just caused them to topple over. Lydia cursed as she slammed to the ground, her brain rocking against her skull, and the world flashing with splotches of white. Delia sprinted down the stairs, nearly tripping on herself on the way down. She fell to her knees beside Lydia.

"Are you alright, dear?" She murmured.

"Yeah, 'm fine," Lydia mumbled, wiping the still-pouring blood from her nose. "Go check on Beej."

The ex-demon looked much the worse for wear, his skin now sickeningly pale and covered in a thick sheen of sweat. Delia helped him up, but his lethargic state didn't help much.

"I gotta get… I gotta get Lyds to the doc —"

Delia held him close to her body. "You don't have to do anything. Lydia will be fine; it's _you_ I'm worried about."

Beetlejuice scoffed. "Fuck me — not literally, though… Tha' is weird. Go help Lydia."

"Oh gosh, you're losing your mind," Delia sighed. She tilted her head toward the stairs. "Barbara? Could you help me out?"

It wasn't a moment later when the ghost floated down the stairs. Barbara's eyes widened as she studied the scene around her, beginning to open her mouth when Delia interrupted her.

"I need you to help me take Beetlejuice up the stairs. The poor thing is freaking out over Lydia."

"I _should_ be freaking out about Lydia," Beetlejuice whined. "She's _dying."_

Delia looked up at Barbara tiredly. "See?"

Barbara nodded. "Yeah, I can see the issue." She gently moved Delia away, wrapping her arms around Beetlejuice in her stead. "Come along, dear."

Beetlejuice shivered in her grip. He looked up at her vaguely. "You're cold."

"I'm quite aware." She chuckled.

“You should… You should wear a jacket.”

Barbara’s eyebrows rose. That was… _Not_ a bad idea, now that she thought about it. Lydia would probably appreciate it. “I’ll take up your offer on that…” She mumbled.

Tucking Beetlejuice into bed was easier than Barbara expected. He was easier than that baby training doll she and Adam used for a week! Perhaps it was selfish of her, but there was something… _Sweet_ about how delicate he was.

She placed his blanket over his body and sighed. Barbara brushed a wet strand of hair from his forehead and leaned over him, placing her lips on his scalp.

And then she froze.

_Nope._

Nope, nope, nope, nope, no.

Barbara pushed herself back, vehemently wiping her mouth off. It was _not_ her place to do that. No, not at all.

With a deep sigh, the ghost stood up straight and wiped her dress down. It was probably just a simple, caring instinct. She’s done that before. It was part of her old job as a daycare worker, anyway.

With the turn of her heel, she walked out of his room, closing the door behind her.

* * *

The world neither starts nor ends; it just is. The room he was in was covered in purples, greens, and pinks; bright, mind-bending colors that blinded him. Beetlejuice was small, obnoxiously so. He wore a loose shirt that his Ma had thrown together whenever he wailed too much about his "nice" clothing (He didn't like his nice clothing. It was itchy and irritating, it made his mind feel like there were bees inside of it — loudly buzzing and vibrating, drowning any coherent thoughts out).

His eyes opened to the Netherworld's purple sky above him. He was laying in the grass; an obnoxious, fake, bright green grass that was incredibly stiff. The typical faint smell of ozone wafted through the air, confirming where he was. 

Yeah, he sure as hell was in the Netherworld.

But staring at the sky was boring, so he stood up and looked at his surroundings. It was endless plains of grass, the only difference being a pink door.

Well, nowhere to go but there.

According to whatever the hell contacted his conscience, the door was unlocked; so like any other logical being, he opened it. It was Ma's workplace, her domain. He wandered down the empty, mazelike halls. The greens and pinks around him hummed quietly, making up for the lack of noise the typical civil workers made.

Speaking of civil workers…

Beetlejuice peeked into the gargantuan office space all of the civil-workers worked in ("Over 200 million and counting!" As his Ma always said).

It was completely empty.

The desks were abandoned, covered in a strange, green residue that reminded him of spiderwebs. The large screen that showed everyone who had ever died in his Ma's sector was frozen. Beetlejuice should have thought this was weird, but at the same time, it was unnaturally normal.

He left office, finally reaching the end of the hall where the waiting room was. With a twist of a knob, the door opened without a creak. Nobody sat inside, not even the receptionist (Purity was her name… Probably).

Well, there was no one there except one.

A red-dressed woman.

She was turned away from him. A bouquet of decaying Rose's was held in a limp hand. Her veil was long, appearing to be attached to the poofy ponytail on top of her head; the rest of her hair was a simple bob.

Out of all the reasons this woman could possibly be there, Beetlejuice guessed that she was probably a Recently Deceased.

Beetlejuice walked up to her.

She didn't acknowledge him.

He poked her arm.

The woman's body stiffened, appearing to be filled with life. She slowly turned toward him, her eyes already on him.

She was much younger than he thought.

Black tears stained her cheeks. Dark blue, soot-like stains covered the corner of her lips, under her eyes, her cheekbones, and the tip of her nose. Her expression looked… Dull.

She just stared at him.

He just stared at her.

The lady felt familiar. Her brown eyes, her brown skin, her messy black hair… It should've rung a bell.

Oh well.

"Hey, lady," _wow,_ his voice was higher than expected, "You okay?"

A smile slowly spread itself across her face, all teeth. It was mirthless.

A shiver ran up Beetlejuice's spine, but he ignored it. "Do I know you?"

_"Do you?"_

"Haha, okay…" he mumbled, forcing out a laugh. "No, I don't. Am I supposed to?"

The girl shrugged. _"I don't know."_

_What the hell is happening?_

Beetlejuice scratched the back of his head. "Right, well… Our receptionist isn't here… Neither is… Anyone else, actually. Uh — Are you here to get set up?"

_"'Set up?'"_

"Yeah, like, getting your apartment and shit."

The girl shook her head. _"I'm supposed to take you somewhere."_

Normally, Beetlejuice would have checked out by now. He would've fled for the hills or teleported this girl to someplace else. But for whatever reason, the idea of her taking him somewhere wasn't… Bad? He should have felt that _something_ was up, but here he was, taking this stranger's hand and walking with her.

It was barely a few seconds before he was suddenly in front of a towering house. He and the girl phased through the door with ease, not even bothering to check if someone was living inside.

The house was covered in black and white stripes. Smooth, sandworm-like tentacles swirled around the walls and furniture. Beetlejuice _definitely_ wanted to know what the architect was smoking when they made it. Beetlejuice didn't get much time to gawk at the house, though. The girl began dragging him up the stairs. 

The second floor was a stark contrast to the downstairs. It was simple; plain white wallpaper, normal, fluffy carpet, the epitome of a normal, human house. The girl led him into one of the rooms, which was only an empty, white space with a bed in the center of it.

Beetlejuice whistled. "What the fuck?"

The girl pointed to the bed and threw Beetlejuice towards it. _"Rip it open."_ She commanded.

Beetlejuice frowned. "I'm sorry?"

_"Rip it open."_

In the next moment, a knife appeared in his hand. Beetlejuice looked at the bed and looked back at the girl one more time. She nodded.

He walked over to the bed and stabbed the knife into the mattress. It was a difficult task, slicing through the mattress, a sheen of sweat spread across his face. He might as well gave up.

But the girl was so adamant…

The knife finally reached the edge of the mattress and Beetlejuice sighed in relief. He looked back at the girl expectantly, but she showed no emotion.

_"Look inside."_

Beetlejuice obeyed. And pried the thick mattress open.

And regretted it instantly.

There was a body — no, _Lydia's_ body. 

And then, he suddenly knew who the girl behind him was.

The second Lydia's hands rested on her chest. Her hair was long, as long as it was when he finally returned before she cut it again. Flowers grew around her as though the bed was a field.

"What the fuck is happening?"

Lydia smiled. _"Your subconscious is weird, Lawrence. I couldn't possibly explain to you why you brought this up."_

"Is this another like… Silly fucking prank from the Netherworld? Because it ain't funny."

Lydia simply laughed and shook her head.

"What the hell is even happening?" Beetlejuice looked down at his palms and back up at Lydia. With the blink of an eye, she disappeared. "Is this a human thing?"

He was really tired of seeing that weird mattress, so he willed it out of existence — somehow. 

This couldn't possibly be a human thing.

Beetlejuice left the house, watching as the world around him seemed to fall apart. He wanted stripes, so he got stripes. He wanted a couch, he got a couch. It was a comfy little thing and could probably help distract him from the pure and utter boredom this hellscape was producing.

He lied down on his back and shut his eyes.

Could he fall asleep while asleep?

Was he even asleep?

A voice broke through his consciousness. _"Beetlejuice?"_

Huh, that's neat.

_"Beetlejuice, dear?"_

Was he crazy or did that sound like Delia? That had to be Delia.

"Beetlejuice!"

_Oh, it was totally Delia.\_

The ex-demon gasped. His body was soaking. Delia hovered over him, worry clear in her eyes.

"Are you alright, dear?" She asked. "God, you're hot."

Beetlejuice forced a smile. "Heh, thanks."

"No, Beetlejuice, you're burning up!" Delia pressed a cold object to his forehead. With the click of a button, a loud beeping began. She ran the object across his forehead and looked at it. "One hundred and one degrees… Not good."

"I have no clue what you're talking about."

"You have a higher fever," she murmured. "If it gets higher, we'll have to take you to the hospital. Must be your weak immune system, Lydia's not suffering nearly as bad as you."

Beetlejuice's eyes widened. "I need to get Lyds."

He attempted to sit up but was immediately quelled by Delia. She pressed him into the bed.

"No," she said firmly. "I can't risk you freaking out again."

"But her mattress —

Delia frowned. "What about her mattress?"

"Her — Her mattress, it has —"

No, something was off. Lydia's room wasn't connected to the Netherworld. Her _house_ wasn't connected to the Netherworld. There weren't two Lydia's. Everything was fine.

Beetlejuice huffed. "Do humans ever… I dunno, see things that aren't there when they sleep?"

Delia's confusion lifted. "Oh, dreams. Did you have your first one?"

"Yeah, yeah, I think I did."

"And I assume it had something to do with Lydia's mattress?"

Beetlejuice groaned. "That's barely the end of it. It was weird. It didn't make sense."

Delia nodded understandably. "Yes, fever-induced dreams can be like that."

She got up to leave, but Beetlejuice grabbed her pajama shirt. "Uh. Could you do me a favor? Really quick?" He asked.

"Of course!"

"Just… Check on Lydia. Please."

Delia smiled and nodded, closing the door behind her.

Beetlejuice didn't know what happened next; all he knew was when he next woke up, it was _much_ brighter. Rays of sunlight burst through the windows. Someone probably opened his curtains — most likely Delia.

He felt a lot better compared to the night before. His head didn't feel as though it were stuffed with as much cotton and he definitely wasn't sweating his ass off. If his vague understanding of health was correct, that was probably a good sign.

His head felt fuzzy as he slid off his bed. 

Well, there went his whole “feeling better” schtick. 

He stood up on shaky, noodle-like legs and shut his eyes. He’ll be fine — probably. He caught a quick glance at his alarm clock, scowling as the number 5:30 P.M. blinked back at him.

It was okay, though — probably. It's not like he had much to do today anyway. He was going to eat some food, chill around the house, annoy the Maitlands (A.K.A. help them with their model), and…

He paused.

Holy shit he forgot about Lydia.

Beetlejuice began sprinting out of his room and down the stairs, ignoring the pain that shuttered through his skull every time he took a step. He slid into the dining room, immediately being greeted by everyone but Charles hanging out.

Delia's face lit up as she placed a plate in front of Lydia.

_Lydia._

"You're up!" The guru cried, hurrying towards him. They met halfway, though she appeared blissfully unaware that she was blocking him from getting to Lydia. She ran an unwelcome hand across his forehead. "You're still burning up, are you feeling alright?"

"'M fine," he muttered, knocking her hand away. He rushed over to Lydia, having to balance his hands on the table for a moment as his vision flashed white. "Lyds —"

"You look hella bad," Lydia said curtly.

"I —" he heaved. "Are you okay? I — I fell asleep and forgot to get you —"

"I'm actually doing pretty well." She replied.

"Her fever broke early this morning," Delia added, pulling up a chair.

Beetlejuice frowned as Barbara helped him sit. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means her fever disappeared," Adam explained. "Though she might still be sick _and_ the school doesn't let her back in until she's had twenty-four hours without a fever, so…"

"I'm… One-hundred percent sure that's not how it works." Beetlejuice said.

Barbara smirked. "And how do you know that?"

He scoffed. "Because I've experienced that shit for centuries, _Barbara._ Sickness doesn't just disappear…"

"Well, somewhat, yes," Delia said, placing a bowl of crackers in front of him. "The flu _does_ come back every year, but for now, Lydia will be fine. Hopefully, she'll be mostly immune now."

"Immune?"

"You know, her body will be resistant against this year's strand?" Delia turned to the Maitlands. "Did you not teach him this?"

"We _tried,"_ Barbara said. "But he _insisted_ that he knew."

"Because I do!" Beetlejuice cried.

"You don't know what 'immune' means." Lydia deadpanned.

"And you don't know what 'iridocyclitis' means, but you don't see me complain about it."

Lydia scoffed. "That's completely different! I bet _you_ don't even know what it means."

Beetlejuice side-eyed her. "I'm neither confirming nor denying that."

She hummed with sarcastic approval and went back to eating. Delia chuckled awkwardly and placed a hand on Beetlejuice's shoulder.

"Lydia, sweetheart, how about instead of bickering, you _help_ Beetlejuice? I'm sure he'd appreciate it."

Lydia pursed her lips. "I don't know, does he think he's ready for Lydia Deetz-level classes?"

"Lydia, your 'classes' are just you reading off of Wikipedia." Adam chuckled.

"Yeah, and it _works."_

"Sure, sure. I'd love to read the reviews from your old 'students.'"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Okay, yeah, I may have not used my method for anybody else, but I know it works!"

Adam did not respond; he simply shrugged and kept reading the newspaper in front of him. Personally, Lydia saw that as a sign of defeat, so she turned back to Beetlejuice.

"I guess I can help you if you want." She said.

Beetlejuice shrugged. "There's not much you need to teach, but I like your company, so whatever."

He then felt this odd feeling in his stomach. It was hard to explain, but it _was_ similar to when he threw up. So, he probably needed to vomit.

He then proceeded to vomit on the floor.

* * *

Lydia spent at _least_ a solid two hours reading article after article from Wikipedia to Beetlejuice until her tongue felt too tired to continue. She sighed and slammed her laptop shut. "So?" 

Beetlejuice clicked his tongue. "Yeah, no."

"What? I spent like… Fifty years reading to you and your first reaction is 'no?'"

"Yup." He replied, making sure to pop the _P._

Lydia grimaced. "I did _not_ waste time just for you to become an extreme anti-vaxxer! How could you just say 'no?'"

"Well, first of all," Beetlejuice said, lifting a finger, "I have no clue what an anti-vaxxer is. Second of all, I know things, surprisingly. I know whatever you just read won't protect your weak, frail, fleshy, little bodies."

She snorted. "And how do _you_ know that, oh wise one?"

"Because I've _seen it,_ Lyds."

He saw, he watched as the last breath was snatched away from so many breathers. The way their yellowed skin would pale and their stiff limbs go limp, the sweat on their forehead freeze; he watched as their spirit would scream in agony, watching as their child approached the bed. It hurt like hell then, it hurt like hell now.

Beetlejuice refused to let Lydia experience that.

He must've been crying because the next thing Lydia did was wipe her thumb across his cheek.

"I can promise you it won't be like then," she murmured. "My fever's gone, and if anything bad happens, we can rush straight to the hospital."

Beetlejuice took her hand and squeezed it. "They had doctors too, how do you know they can help you now?"

Lydia pursed her lips. She had to admit that her belief in doctors after her mother died (She had spent weeks trying to explain what was wrong, but, every time, the doctor would accuse her of lying or that she needed to lose weight. And once it was too late? They didn't give a damn; they only threw their arms up and claimed there was nothing they could have done). It was impossible to tell Beetlejuice she didn't know, though. He would immediately lose trust in any doctor he saw.

A small idea popped into her head.

"Do you remember my telescope?" She asked.

He frowned. "What about it?"

"You noticed that it had been updated over the century. Well, medicine is sort of like that. It's been improved over and over again. So much so that getting scratched by a random piece of metal isn't as scary as it used to be."

"I want to believe that, I really do, but what if?" He sniffled. "What if you're just unlucky enough?"

Lydia bit her lip. Oof, she was not expecting that (Her mother had cystic fibrosis, sure, but she was _fine;_ everything was _fine —)._

"You know what…" Lydia said, interrupting her thoughts. "Let's talk about something else. Um, let's talk about something… Positive! Delia said you had your first dream last night…"

Beetlejuice shrugged. "I guess. It wasn't very positive, though."

She groaned. Lydia stood straight up and stomped her foot. "Okay, so we'll make it positive! You can handle ice cream, right?"

"I…" he blinked at her inquisitively. "I can handle vanilla?"

Lydia clapped her hands. "Great! We have small containers downstairs. Help me steal them."

She grabbed Beetlejuice's hand and dragged him up. They scurried down the stairs on their tiptoes. Lydia peeked into the kitchen. Once she was sure the coast was clear, Lydia turned toward Beetlejuice and held a finger over her lips. They scurried over to the fridge. Lydia slowly opened the fridge, avoiding making a peep. After some digging, she found the two containers she was looking for.

The first step of the mission? Done.

The second part was slightly harder as she had to open the silverware drawer, which was already loud as hell. Lydia opened the drawer with relative ease. Unfortunately, she couldn't say the same when closing it. She accidentally pushed too hard, causing it to slam.

The duo winced and immediately snapped their heads toward the living room entrance.

"Lydia? Is that you?" Delia's voice echoed.

Ah, so she was watching TV. Lydia cleared her throat and shoved one of the containers into Beetlejuice's arms.

"Yup," she yelled out. "Just putting away a bowl I accidentally left upstairs!"

Yeah, that seemed convincing enough.

Delia probably said something, but the duo was too busy sprinting — quietly — back upstairs. Lydia slammed her door shut and pressed her back against it. She giggled like an all too excited child and glanced at Beetlejuice. "It's always fun to do that."

She walked to the center of her room and sat on the ground. With a quick pat on the floor from Lydia, Beetlejuice sat beside her. She popped open the container and took a bite of ice cream. 

Beetlejuice studied the container in his hands. "Does icecream help with sickness?"

Lydia shrugged and took another bite. "Eh, probably not. Now, talk to me."

Beetlejuice pursed his lips and fiddled with the spoon in his hand. “I dunno. I just saw some weird shit in my sleep.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Do share.”

"Uh, well, it started with me waking up in the Netherworld, but, like, I was a kid. I walk around Ma's old building and shit's just… Completely off; everywhere is empty. Then I wander into the waiting room and _you_ are there in your wedding dress."

Lydia cringed. "Yikes."

"Exactly. Anyway, you start leading me to some place, blah, blah, blah. We enter your house for some fuckin' reason. It's like, like we just sort of appeared there and now we're in your room. You order me to tear open your mattress and, here's the weirdest part, your corpse was in there? Very freaky, not gonna lie.

"That's kinda the end of it all. I sorta just willed shit out of existence until Dels woke me up."

Lydia blinked. She turned away from him and took a bite of ice cream. “Shit, dude. That’s probably the worst first dream ever.”

“Are they always this bad?”

She shook her head. “No, some of them can be good,” Lydia tucked her knees close to her chest, “I saw mom in one a few days ago. It was nice.”

“So it’s just a gamble of whether your dreams are happy or not?” Beetlejuice smirked.

“Basically.”

He blew a raspberry. “Man, that sucks."

Lydia playfully shoved him. “Just another annoying breather thing.”

* * *

Delia slowly opened Lydia's door. She had forgotten to check on Beetlejuice's temperature, and since he wasn't in his room nor the attic, there was only one other place he could be.

She had expected to see the two gremlins play-fighting or watching the latest episode of that new show they were interested in. Instead, she opened the door to the two of them cuddled up together under a large, purple blanket. Lydia's head rested over Beetlejuice's stomach while Beetlejuice somehow wrapped his leg around her hips, both perfectly content. Whatever movie they were watching had ended, the credits practically done. Two abandoned containers of ice cream sat beside them.

 _So that's what Lydia was doing downstairs…_ She chuckled to herself.

She flicked off the light switch and closed the door. Beetlejuice would probably be fine for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, it was so hard to read this chapter because of the pure and utter shock of having an early chapter; it's perfectly okay. Hopefully, next chapter will be posted earlier as well! These two chapters were mostly done already, so that made it pretty easy to force myself to complete them.
> 
> Sorry if I've made too many Dark Age/Medieval Age references, history is a huge special interest of mine so I will take any chance I can take to mildly reference a historical era. Anyway, Beetlejuice has lived through A L O T of plagues (The Black Death, Cocoliztli Epidemic [He had to guide the Recently Deceased there so he wasn't completely in the action, but still], the several American Plagues in the 1600s [Post Netherworld banishment and Juno's curse], the Great Plague of London, the Great Plague of Marseille, the Russian Plague in the 1770s, the Yellow Fever, the Flu Epidemic in the 1890s, the Polio Epidemic, the Spanish Flu, the Asian Flu, the AIDS Epidemic/Pandemic, and the more modern flu epidemics). Yeah, as you can tell that's way too much for one demon with no context of what's happening.
> 
> And for Lydia, I don't know if it's normal for people to get a nosebleed after throwing up? It's happened to me before, but then again, I also get a lot of nosebleeds :')
> 
> Barbara's little kissing moment is based on a sort of real-life event? It wasn't romantic but rather familial in a sense for me. This little girl, we'll call her Jane Doe, played the role of little Ti Moune in my school's performance of Once on This Island. Being Ti Moune's mom in the show (Wow! I'm a theatre kid! What surprise!), I got really close to her. One day, she accidentally tripped on the platform on stage and bruised her leg. Being a little kid, she reacted pretty badly. We stayed with her for a while until her mom picked her up and before I had to leave, I hugged her and pressed my lips to her head, much like I do with my brother. I immediately was like, "Nope! That is not my place, I am NOT her sibling." After everything though, I do see her as somewhat of a little sister. Jane Doe and I are still friends even though I graduated last year :D
> 
> Beetlejuice's dream is purposely vague if it wasn't obvious. A lot of my weirder dreams are typically nonsensical. That being said, I also wanted people to be able to interpret it on their own! So, if you do want to comment whatever interpretation you have of that weird dream sequence, please feel free!
> 
> Thanks a lot for reading and feel free to comment about anything! How are you feeling right now? How's quarantine? Are there any Human!Beej stories you're interested in reading? Let me know! (Yes, this is now my standard ending to these rambling notes ghdfjkhdkg)


	9. The Babysitter's Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A certain small girl scout comes over...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me saying that this chapter would also probably come quickly: *In Hector Rivera voice from Coco* So that was a lie...
> 
> I don't know how y'all post chapters so quickly!! I envy you all so much.
> 
> Also!! I finally got to 51,661 words for this story (Specifically the WIP)! I'd like to thank y'all the most, you guys are the reason I've been so motivated to write this story! Thank you so much!

“Beej, move. I gotta clean up the living room before Skye comes over.”

Lydia gently kicked Beetlejuice in the head. He groaned, rolling onto his stomach and planting his face into the wooden floor.

Out of all the things Beetlejuice expected Lydia to take up as a job, babysitting was definitely not one of them. Mostly due to the fact that the last time he saw Lydia handle a child, she subjected them to the pure and utter horror that was Beetlejuice. But despite that egregious case of child endangerment, Lydia Deetz was still able to gain a license and the trust of that weird girl selling cookies.

The wonders of life never cease.

“I’ve got thirty minutes,” Lydia yelled, clapping her hands. “Chop, chop!”

Beetlejuice groaned again.

There wasn’t much cleaning up to do, really. Lydia, if she was completely honest with herself, was just incredibly paranoid about how the Steingolds saw her in general. They were the complete _opposite_ of her family; normal, simple, non-eccentric (Well, excluding Skye). Skye’s mothers appeared and acted kind towards her, but there was always that feeling of paranoia. It was better to be safe than sorry.

Lydia then spent the next twenty-five minutes attempting to make herself presentable. The Steingolds didn't seem to mind Lydia's goth appearance; in fact, Christine, one of Skye's mothers, absolutely _loved_ it. There was also Skye who claimed that she wanted to "Look exactly like you when _I'm_ fifteen!" Lydia simply laughed and ruffled the girl's hair. Kids were weird.

She finished up brushing her stubborn hair and tied it back. With one last stroke of lipstick, she hurried downstairs and waited by the door.

The Steingolds were punctual. _Always._

Lo and behold, the moment the clock hit 2:30 P.M., the doorbell rang.

Lydia put on the biggest grin possible and opened the door. Meg Steingold stood in all of her petite glory, little Skye right behind her. Skye, the moment she made eye contact with Lydia, pushed herself in front of her mother. The platinum blonde, poofy-haired girl stared up at her with the biggest grin. She squealed excitedly and wrapped her arms tightly around Lydia's waist. 

"Lydia, Lydia, Lydia! Guess what?" She cried.

"What?"

"So I went home and practiced those hand thingies you taught me and now I can spell my name!"

Meg chuckled. "She's really proud of her ASL," she elaborated. "She won't stop talking about it to her school friends!"

Skye tugged at Lydia's sweater. "You wanna see?"

"Of course," Lydia said, nodding and chuckling.

The girl scout hesitated before she held her hands up to her chest. Her movements were slowly and slightly shaky, but they were comprehensible _. "S-K-Y-E."_

Lydia and Meg applauded the girl. Lydia reached over and ruffled Skye's hair. "Good job, dude! I'll have to teach you more today, huh?"

"Please, please, _puh-lease!"_ Skye cried, bouncing up and down.

Meg smiled. "Well, I should leave you two to it. I'll pick her up around five?"

"Sounds good to me!" Lydia said, placing a hand on the door.

The woman bent down and kissed Skye's cheek. "Let Lydia know if anything goes wrong, alright?"

"Alright!" The young girl replied.

She looked back up at Lydia. "As always, she has her medication, her monitor, and a few extra toys for entertainment!"

After a brief goodbye and an awkward moment where Lydia watched Skye's mother drive off, the two girls looked at each other and giggled.

"So what sort of chaos are we getting into today?" Lydia asked.

"Oh! well I was thinking…" Skye's voice faded out as she slowly turned her head towards the stairs. Lydia copied her, trying to catch whatever caught Skye's attention this time.

What caught the young girl's attention was none other than a silent Beetlejuice sitting on the staircase. He made clear eye contact with Skye as the two appeared to have a silent staring contest. Lydia tended up, preparing herself for the onslaught of earth-shattering screeches from the girl scout.

Instead, Skye's lit up like Christmas lights as she hurried to the edge of the staircase. "I remember you!" She cried with _far_ too much excitement. "You scared me!"

Beetlejuice blinked in surprise and nodded. "Uh, yeah, I guess I did."

"You know, at the time I was _really_ scared and I thought I was going to die, but I didn't! I told my friends at school and they thought I was super cool. You were super cool too! You were super scary and —" Skye paused, catching her breath. She then cocked her head. "Though you were more purple last time, _and_ you had green hair, and you were much grosser."

Beetlejuice shrugged. "Shit happens." Lydia glared at him, "I mean — _stuff_ happens!"

"It's okay!" Skye giggled. "Mama curses all the time when she thinks I'm asleep! I know _all_ the swear words."

Beetlejuice's eyes lit up. "You wanna list them out?"

Lydia burst into pained laughter as she gripped Skye's shoulders. "You know, as fun as that would be, let's _not!_ You know what is fun?"

"Barbies!" Skye yelled, throwing her arms into the air.

"That's right!" She said, using an overly-saccharine tone. "How about we go upstairs and play?"

"Okie-dokie! Is _he_ gonna come?" Skye said, gesturing to Beetlejuice.

Beetlejuice waved his hands. “Nah, I’ve got… Stuff to do. Yeah, lots of stuff.”

Lydia placed a hand on her hip and arched an eyebrow. “Since when did you have stuff to do? You don’t even have a _job.”_

“Um, I’ll have you know that you don’t need a job to have things to do,” he snapped. “Now, if you don’t mind me, I’m going to go do my _stuff.”_

Beetlejuice stomped upstairs dramatically. After he was out of sight, Lydia leaned into Skye. “He’s being weird.” She whispered.

The young girl giggled. “Isn’t he always weird?”

“Good point.”

* * *

Lydia was never a Barbie doll kind of girl. It wasn’t that she _disliked_ them, per se, it was more of an aesthetic thing. However, the moment Monster High dolls appeared on retail shelves, Lydia knew damn well what she wanted. Not only that but her mother absolutely adored them as well and would constantly play with her (Her father too, but his stories were much more mundane compared to the dramatics her mother had).

She obviously outgrew those dolls, but she never planned on getting rid of them. Her mother said that they would be a great keepsake, which was the only thing that stopped her from donating them. Of course, once she died… 

It was a very tearful goodbye as Lydia handed over the dolls.

It was that choice that annoyed Lydia once she began babysitting Skye. It turned out that little girls still played with toys, what a surprise. Luckily for Lydia, Barbara happened to have stored all her old Barbie dolls in the attic. Double the luck for Lydia, they were still quite high-quality. _Triple_ the luck for Lydia, Skye absolutely _loved_ them. The utter drama and gruesome tales the girls would tell with their plastic conduits would bring the best writers to shame. Last time Lydia babysat Skye, they told the story of two secret female lovers who, at the very end, ran away from their husbands and lived together in the woods. Adam and Barbara, who volunteered to be the audience, were brought to tears.

At the moment, they were telling another story, though it lacked the typical ghostly audience. Lydia moved the Ken doll in her grasp closer to Skye's Barbie and put on a deep voice.

"So, tell me, have you been doing witchcraft?" She asked.

"Oh, no!" Skye replied, using a higher voice. "I am completely innocent —"

"What the hell are you doing?"

Lydia turned around and immediately glared at Beetlejuice. The ex-demon completely ignored her as he sat on the ground.

Skye grinned. "We're telling a story about witches! This one lady is secretly a witch and the lady she likes is a witch-hunter! We just got to the confrontation!"

"Do you want to join us?" Lydia asked.

He blushed. “I don’t — Uh, I don’t know if I’d be _good_ at playing dolls.”

“Bad? At dolls?” Skye burst into a fit of giggly laughter. 

Lydia smiled sympathetically and placed a hand on Skye's shoulder. "I think what he's trying to say is that he never played dolls as a kid and might have some trouble."

"Oh, okay!" Skye nodded. "That doesn't matter to us! You can choose whatever doll you want and make a character."

Beetlejuice raised his arms to his chest. "Oh, I shouldn't —"

"Here!" Skye shoved a doll with extremely long hair and an outfit that looked like the '80s vomited on it (Beetlejuice wouldn't lie, though, it was a pretty doll).

_"Just go with it."_ Lydia mouthed.

"So I was thinking that your character could be an ally to the witches and works with the witch hunters to help the witches get their secret plans. What do you think…" Skye paused. "What is your name?"

Beetlejuice turned to Lydia. "She doesn't know my name?"

"Well it's not like you came up often!" Lydia defended.

The ex-demon took another moment to remain flabbergasted before turning back to Skye. "I can't say it."

Lydia's eyes lit up. "You know what… You wanted to practice more ASL, right, Skye? How about Beetlejuice signs his name for you?"

Because _of course_ Lydia would somehow make this educational.

Skye nodded excitedly and leaned in. Lydia glared at Beetlejuice with the usual "If you don't do this for me, I will kick your ass" look. A classic.

Beetlejuice hesitated. “Uh…” he raised one shaky hand and began signing. _“B-E-E-T-L-E-J-U-I-C-E.”_

Lydia turned to Skye. “Do you know what that means?”

The Girl Scout copied a few of Beetlejuice’s movements and mumbled to herself. She looked up at Lydia. “I saw _B,_ two _E_ ’s, _L,_ and another _E._ I’m still having trouble with reading really fast movements.”

“That was really good!” Lydia ruffled Skye’s hair. “His full name is Beetlejuice. Do you want me to show you it slower?”

Skye nodded. 

Lydia's hands moved much more gracefully compared to Beetlejuice, much cleaner. She said that it's because she's been learning since she was a baby and Beetlejuice only learned a month ago, but he still indulged in that tinge of envy.

Skye pursed her lips. "Okay, I think I get it. Ah…" she lifted her hands and began signing, _"B-E-E-T-L-E-J-V-I-C-E."_

The teen smiled. "Close! Got your _U_ and _V_ mixed up."

Skye blew a raspberry. "Shoot, I always do that."

"It's fine, it just takes time is all!"

"I'm bored," Skye said suddenly. "Can we play cards?"

The three of them hurried downstairs, immediately unsheathing the Uno deck.

Lydia grinned. "Hey, Beej, draw four."

She placed the card down as Beetlejuice cried out in pain. He was always dramatic during Uno, like a cat whining because its bowl is half empty. Skye giggled along but unfortunately got smacked in the face by one of Beetlejuice's flailing arms.

"Hey!" She cried. "Watch it!"

Beetlejuice sat up and ruffled the girl's hair. "Sorry, kid. Full of emotions, head empty."

"What does that even _mean?_ This is an _Uno game."_

"You'll understand someday, young padawan."

Lydia huffed. "Are you gonna go or not?"

Beetlejuice opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by the doorbell. All three of them turned toward the door, making immediate eye contact with a man holding a clipboard in his arms.

Lydia immediately spun back around. "Nope, not dealing with that."

The doorbell rang again.

And again.

And again.

And again —

_"Okay!"_ Lydia stood and scoffed. "Darn door-to-door salesmen," she turned and smiled at Beetlejuice. "Hey, remember those two Mormon dudes who came to our door? Elder Price and his 'Most Amazing Book?'"

The doorbell rang once more (Because once one of those door-to-door salesmen made eye contact, it was impossible to escape) and Lydia purposely groaned as loud as physically possible. She stood up and stopped at the door.

"Watch Skye for me, Beej. Okay?"

Beetlejuice nodded and saluted her. "You got it. I totally know how to supervise toddlers."

Lydia smirked and rolled her eyes. She looked down at Skye. "And Skye, watch Beej for me. Make sure he doesn't eat glass again."

The teen was already out the door when Beetlejuice shrieked, _"That was one time, Lyds, and you know it!"_

The ex-demon and Girl Scout sat in silence for a moment. Skye glanced up at him and looked back at the wall. Beetlejuice glanced down at her and looked back at the wall.

Another beat of silence and, suddenly, Skye was bouncing in the air and clutching Beetlejuice's shoulders. 

"Did you scare those religious dudes likeyou scared me?" She asked.

Beetlejuice grinned. "Oh, he — _heck_ yeah! I summoned a bunch of maggots inside the book, and when they opened it, Lydia was able to reach over and smack the dude's head right into them! Tons of tentacles burst out and grabbed the dude, it was awesome."

Skye squealed with an unhealthy amount of joy and flapped her hands. "Is Lydia going to do that to them now? Is she gonna scare the heck out of them!?"

"I mean, probably not? Lydia doesn't have any powers, and if we get another complaint, Chuck threatened to ‘ground’ us… So…"

"Well, _I_ think Lydia could scare them, even without magic powers. I mean, a girl that cool could do _anything."_

Beetlejuice snorted. "You say that like you have a crush on her."

Skye's face turned scarlet as she quickly fixed the stack of cards in front of her mindlessly.

Beetlejuice was somewhat understanding the concept of blushing. It was because someone was hot or someone was feeling a strong emotion, particularly embarrassment or from being flattered.

“You good?”

The girl stared down at the floor as though she were having an intense staring contest with it. Beetlejuice poked her shoulder and she flinched.

_Oh._

Beetlejuice immediately began waving his hands. “I didn’t mean anything bad about it! I mean — It’s fine if you like her —”

"No, I’m not upset. I just — She's really cute and pretty and I wanna be just like her!" Skye squealed, clutching her face. "You _live_ with her, how could you _not_ want to kiss her?"

Beetlejuice cringed. "Ah, well… I _am_ an adult."

"But still, she's just so…" Skye grabbed the nearest pillow and screamed into it.

"You… _Do_ know how old Lydia is, right?"

Skye lifted her now fully red face from the pillow. "She said fifteen… I think."

"And you're how old?"

"Seven!"

Beetlejuice nodded slowly. "I see."

"But I don't see why that matters, Mama says that love can blossom at any age!"

_Okay, time to change the subject before we break this seven-year-old's heart…_

Beetlejuice scratched his beard. "When did you know you… _Liked_ her?"

"Well," the little girl tapped her chin. "It wasn't really an immediate thought, I guess! I sorta just… Started feeling things! And then my feelings got bigger and bigger and bigger, and now my heart wants to explode!"

Skye made a small _boom_ noise and fell onto her back, giggling. Beetlejuice couldn't help but giggle as well, joining her on the floor.

"But like — How did you _feel?"_

"Mm… It's this warm fuzzy feeling! It's weird — but nice. You wanna spend _all_ your time with them and you daydream about hugging them and kissing them…" Skye sighed. "And when you see them your heart beats _really_ fast and your face gets warm — just like when you're scared! Except you're not, you're happy and comfortable; you never ever, ever, _ever_ want to leave."

"Oh. That… Sounds nice." Beetlejuice felt his heart quicken just a little more. He stared up at the ceiling.

"Yeah, it really is." Skye murmured.

Just then, the door creaked open as a very familiar groan echoed through the house.

"Sorry about that!" Lydia yelled. She began wandering into the living room. "I could _not_ catch a break no matter how much I tried to explain to them that I’m babysitt —"

Lydia froze at the foot of Skye and Beetlejuice and smirked. "What are you two doing?"

"Just talkin'!" Skye yelled, immediately sitting up.

"Looks like you two were in the middle of some philosophical conversation." Lydia giggled. She wrapped her arm around Skye and gave her noogie.

"You could call it that." Beetlejuice sighed, finally gaining the motivation to stand.

* * *

The third step on the ladder to the attic always squeaked. It was a mild annoyance at least and a safety hazard at most. Adam constantly mentioned needing to fix it or replace it, but like everything else in the house, it was put on a long list of other things to do. Just like the cracks in the plaster, the slow wi-fi, the castor-less sofa, and the so-called “disaster” of a bathroom, it was abandoned the moment the Maitlands died. Charles hadn’t fixed it either, still feeling a bit awkward about touching what he deemed “100% Maitland’s property.” So that squeaky step remained.

Beetlejuice never minded it, though. In fact, he and the Maitlands thought it was useful for alerting them when he wanted to say “hi”... Or annoy the hell out of them. 

You couldn’t blame him, the Maitlands were pretty entertaining. He just liked sitting and staring. There was just… So much. There were items upon items stacked upon each other, books upon books. But it wasn’t just that, he loved staring at the Maitlands as well.

Sure, there were the shitloads of objects shoved in the attic and the really nice dust smell to get distracted by, but there was something _more._ It was the little things, like Barbara's overbite, the smile lines her eyes would get when she smiled, or her little dimple that showed as plain as day on the left side of her face. He saw the way Adam's glasses would constantly fall down the bridge of his nose and he'd constantly have to push them back up, the wrinkles on his forehead whenever he arched his eyebrows or the many calluses that covered his fingers.

There were so many little intricate details to the Maitlands, and Beetlejuice _loved_ them.

He knocked gently on the door before opening (Because according to the Maitlands, not knocking before entering was _rude)._ The Maitlands stood apart, both absorbed in whatever work they were doing.. Adam hovered over the model, his face practically pressed against the building he was painting. Barbara was brushing her frizzy hair, which was very odd given the fact that she was just going to fall asleep and mess it up all over again. They had exchanged their typical daily clothes for some plain, fuzzy pajamas.

Because the Maitlands were the _only_ ghosts Beetlejuice knew who casually changed clothes like they were still Breathers.

Typical Maitlands.

Beetlejuice couldn’t help but smile. Adam caught his eye and immediately sat up.

“Whaddya have so far?”

Adam’s eyes lit up as he leaned into the model. “Okay, so, there’s _a lot_ but I’ll show you some of the highlights,” he pointed to a pink building, “This is the bakery, this was owned by the mother of a classmate of ours! I’m pretty sure that classmate runs it now.”

“Sorelli, wasn’t it?” Barbara asked.

He nodded. “I believe so. She took you to take your first estrogen injection, right?”

“Oh my gosh, you’re right!” Barbara chuckled and placed her head in her hands. “That was _so_ long ago.”

Adam turned back to the model and huffed. “I wish we could’ve reunited with her before we died.”

Barbara nodded solemnly, the air around her suddenly feeling cold and stiff. Beetlejuice shifted awkwardly. He had no clue what they were talking about and at this point, he was so lost he didn’t even bother trying to catch up.

“So, uh,” his voice cracked. “What else you got?”

Adam blinked and the tension in the room disappeared in an instant. He nodded and pointed at a large building. “This is Lydia’s school. Oh! And this is that new alternative fashion store that Lydia loves.” He hesitated as he continued searching the model. His eyes widened. "And this was the arcade! _God,_ Barbara and I used to hang out there all the time after class."

Barbara giggled and placed a hand on her hip. "Not only that, but you've remained the highest score for Space Invaders since '05! At least, according to Lydia."

"I had to dedicate my life to _something._ Clearly, it was moving a joystick around and pressing buttons."

Beetlejuice smiled at them and scratched the back of his head. "I wish I could've experienced that. Sounds like one hell of a time."

"Ask Lydia!" Barbara suggested. "I'm sure she'd love to take you!"

"No, I mean — I mean doing it with _you._ You two seemed to have lots of fun."

Adam's face turned scarlet. "Oh. I see…"

"We would if we would," Barbara murmured. "But given our state…"

Beetlejuice waved his hand. "Nah, it's cool. Hanging out here is just as chill."

Barbara smiled and ruffled Beetlejuice's hair. "That's good."

She returned to the model and adjusted a small tree that had tilted slightly. Adam kept his eyes on Beetlejuice, something clearly swirling in his mind.

"You see somethin' you like?" Beetlejuice joked.

Adam's face, which had finally returned to its normal tone, became an even deeper scarlet all over again. He vehemently shook his head, hesitated, then sighed. "I was just — you look fine, don't worry — I was just _thinking…"_

The ex-demon leaned in, resting his chin in his hands. "Thinking about _what,_ A-Dog?"

"Nothing _gross,"_ Adam spat, gently flicking Beetlejuice's nose. "I was thinking about the time Lydia told us they were selling arcade machines now. Maybe we can get one and have it in the attic?"

"Where would we put it?" Barbara chuckled, painting the roof of a building. "Our attic is filled to the brim with stuff, the last thing we need is something more to add to the pile!"

"Well, Delia has always offered to help us with some spring cleaning…"

"We can't put an arcade machine in the attic," Barbara ordered, more humorously than anything.

Beetlejuice sighed and wrapped his arm around Adam's shoulders. "Hate to say it, Babs, but I gotta side with Adam on this one. Who _wouldn't_ want an arcade machine in their room?"

"A person who wants room to walk around." Barbara retorted.

"You're a ghost!" Beetlejuice cried. "You can just walk through it!"

"I'd prefer not to, it makes me feel all weird. Besides, it's good to just take those few extra steps sometimes! Really helps you ground yourself."

Beetlejuice scoffed. "It's really not that bad, you just —" he slammed his fist against the wall and froze. He hissed and held his fist close to his chest. "Shit, I forgot that happens now."

Barbara burst into laughter and hurried over to him. Adam was already looking at Beetlejuice's fist, now completely mortified over such a small action. She sat on her knees in front of Beetlejuice and leaned towards his fist.

"Is it alright?" She asked.

"'S fine…" Beetlejuice mumbled. "Just stings a little."

"It's just a little red." Adam specified.

"That's been… the sixteenth time you've made a mistake like that these past two weeks?" Barbara teased.

"I'm still not used to it, ‘s all!" Beetlejuice defended, raising his hands.

His eyebrows were furrowed and he had a frown so deep it might become permanent, but the Maitlands could still see the way his eyes gleamed and how his shoulders shook ever so slightly. Adam glanced at Barbara and studied her face; the way her eyes crinkled as her toothy smile glowed. And then he thought about himself; he could feel the warmth in his face, the large dopey smile that kept on growing as they teased Beetlejuice. The aforementioned ex-demon’s smile shrank as his eyes then met Adam’s.

Beetlejuice suddenly jumped up, ambling away from the Maitlands and toward the door. “Welp! Better head out! Don’t want to disrupt your wood-carving anymore than I have already.”

“No!” Barbara cried, choosing to fly over to him rather than running. Beetlejuice stared back at her, bug-eyed. Barbara chuckled and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I mean — _Please,_ feel free to stay!”

“I’d hate to intrude —”

“You’re not!” She exclaimed. “Besides, you’ve been outside, haven’t you? We haven’t been outside in _forever.”_

Barbara glanced back at her husband, vaguely gesturing to him. Adam nodded weakly and stood up, slowly walking up to the two. “Right, and that means you can help us make sure our model is accurate!”

His wife’s nervous smile turned to a grin. She patted Adam’s back as a clear “thank you.”

Beetlejuice looked around warily. “You trust me with that?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Barbara asked.

“I dunno, I guess…” he fiddled with his hands. “I guess I thought you guys would assume I would try to trick you, y’know? I didn’t think you would trust me with your passion project.”

Adam chuckled softly and shook his head. “I think we both trust you enough now to let you help us out. And, hey, if we’re somehow tricked into carving a penis into a building, there’s just going to be a penis.”

Beetlejuice snorted before bursting into cackling laughter. He held his body tightly as his rough laughter continued. “Holy _shit,_ Sexy,” he sighed and wiped a tear from his eye. “I didn’t think you had the balls to say the word ‘penis!’”

“I said ‘penis’ a few days ago…”

“Different context, Adam, different context."

Adam opened his mouth to argue, but Barbara simply covered his mouth. "So you'll stay?"

"Sure… uh — whatever." Beetlejuice mumbled, his face burning hotter than flames. 

Both of the Maitlands smiled, but Barbara went the extra mile by giggling and clapping her hands. She and Adam grabbed his hands and dragged him over to the model, immediately asking him dozens of questions about the accuracy of it all.

Beetlejuice was somewhat able to help, his biggest weakness being his foggy memory. He found his place sitting on the floor, hovering over the model. It wasn't until Barbara began to ramble about the old salon that Beetlejuice realized how _heavy_ his eyelids were. No matter how guilty and desperate he felt, his brain flickered back and forth between awake and asleep, finally choosing sleep. His body slumped over, his hand resting on his chin being the only thing stopping him from crushing the model.

"Oh, look at that, he fell asleep." Barbara cooed. She began running her fingers through his hair and smiled.

His snores were… Quiet, out of all the things Adam expected, quite peaceful in fact. It was that nice kind of a snore, a deep rumble, like the purring of an engine or a cat.

"What should we do with him?" Adam whispered. "It couldn't possibly be comfortable sleeping on _that."_

He gestured weakly to the model.

Barbara snorted. "We'll move him, _duh."_

"Oh. Right."

Barbara gently stepped back. She raised her arms and squeezed her eyes tight, letting the rest of her body tense up as well. Beetlejuice slowly floated off of the edge of the model and rested in the air. Barbara opened her eyes and gave a soft ' _huh'_ as she loosened her limbs.

"Lighter than I expected." She whispered.

She guided Beetlejuice to their bed, gently placing him down on the squishy mattress and grabbing the blanket to cover him. Adam tapped her shoulder.

"Where are we supposed to sleep?"

Barbara's smile faded as she shrugged. "Well, I thought — I thought we could just sleep next to him."

Adam glanced at Beetlejuice and bit his lip.

Yeah, that _would_ be nice. The ex-demon looked so peaceful and comfortable (and would make a great pillow to rest one's head on), but there was one glaring issue.

"But we didn't ask if we could." Adam sighed.

Barbara frowned and smacked her forehead with her palm. "Right!" She whispered. "We preach about consent and _immediately_ forget about it!"

"I guess we can just…" Adam kneeled beside the bed and rested his head on the mattress. "Do this?"

His wife shrugged. "Better than nothing!"

The two "laid" at each side of Beetlejuice, dozing off quite easily (One perk of being a ghost was that one could fall asleep on command). And although their backs would deeply regret the odd position (One downside of being a ghost was that one could still get back-pain for whatever cursed reason), the couple felt better. 

More whole.

Maybe they should do this more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe ;)
> 
> And if you're wondering, yes, Barbara is trans in this story, as well as Adam!
> 
> Skye's mothers and the Maitlands' friend's name is based on Phantom of the Opera characters gjhdfjgd. I couldn't think of names so I just used my latest hyperfixation/special interest as name inspo. Knowing me, there might be a few extra references.
> 
> Lydia Deetz was 100% a Monster High kid, fight me on this. Adding on to the whole doll thing, I absolutely love retro Barbies. If I had the money, I would collect like... So many of them??? The Peaches N' Cream Barbie is like my ultimate favorite. I'm also quite fond of the Rockers Barbie too. (One more Barbie note I swear) The doll Beetlejuice was given was the Totally Hair Barbie!
> 
> I headcanon that Lydia goes non-verbal from time to time, and she was just lucky enough to have been taught ASL by her mom. I've actually seen some parents who've taught their kids ASL on TikTok and I think that's so cool! I want to learn it soon. She taught Beetlejuice because, one, he can't say his name out loud so it helps him out, and, two, he goes non-verbal too.
> 
> Skye has, like, a HUGE crush on Lydia. This was inspired by I'm a Bunch of Broken Pieces, which, if you somehow haven't read it yet (How???), has the best Skye interpretation ever. Anyway, I personally headcanon Skye as about 7? I know some people see her as older, but she just acts and sounds so young in the musical I kind of just guessed based on her vibes. This fic will definitely NOT have any romance between them because... Ew age gap, just in case y'all were worried.
> 
> Thanks a lot for reading and feel free to comment about anything! How are you feeling right now? How's quarantine? Are there any Human!Beej stories you're interested in reading? Let me know! We're jumping right back into angst city next chapter, so try to have some positivity in your life, 'kay?


	10. Mind and Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some early morning mindfulness between two disasters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap!!! I'm so sorry about this unexpected hiatus!! It's been about two months, so I'm genuinely surprised some of y'all didn't abandon me gfkjfdjhdk 
> 
> Anyways, I guess the easiest way to explain this is that mentally, I haven't been all there. The whole COVID thing just got worse and with the horrific death of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, etc. everything just became overwhelming. I kinda stopped writing for a bit and threw myself into drawing, because when it comes to lacking words, pictures are the next best thing. But I guess any form of creativity is good! Honestly, if I didn't create, I think I would explode. I've also been hyperfixating a lot on Phantom of the Opera, and have been drawing a lot of it lately!! I do hope to do a little crossover drawing of those characters and Beetlejuice characters soon :D 
> 
> Welp! Enjoy the sob fest. I've missed y'all!!

Beetlejuice woke up earlier than usual.

The sky was still dark and the only sound around him were birds chirping nearby (Hearing birds actually chirp was still such an odd experience).

Well, he was suddenly wide awake, so he might as well get up now.

He had another one of those "dreams" Delia told him about. It was definitely more light-hearted than his last one, (It had Adam and Barbara in it, which was already a plus) but it still bothered him. He was aware the entire time he was in a dream and whenever he mentioned it, the people around him would just laugh.

God, he hated dreams.

His already sour morning turned even more sour as he sat up in the attic. Beetlejuice's first reaction was pure, unbridled panic. If he had somehow done _it_ with the Maitlands, Lydia would never let him hear the end of it. That and also how completely and utterly awkward his relationship with the Maitlands would be. 

Luckily, he was still in his clothes (That was never something thought would be relieving). Once Beetlejuice also got a good look-around of the room, it became quite obvious that the Maitlands were not sleeping in their bed but lying awkwardly on the floor with their heads on the bed. He couldn't help but cringe; their backs would hurt like _hell_ when they woke up (The concept of ghosts having back pain still confounded him).

But that wasn't his problem. _His_ problem was this very simple question: "How the hell do I get out of this bed?"

The Maitlands blocked both sides of the bed, and Beetlejuice doubted he could sneak past either of them without bumping into them given his larger body. His first instinct was to teleport, but after an uncomfortable amount of time with his eyes closed, he suddenly remembered:

_You're human, dumbass._

So, he couldn't float or teleport. There _was_ a third option, but it wasn't very appealing; he could, somehow, climb over the edge of the bed.

The Maitlands' bedframe was an older model from what he could tell. The end of it was raised and had an intricate wood-carving to decorate it. Unfortunately, that fancy wood-carving was the problem. No matter what he did, climbing over it would result in his "crown jewels" being stabbed by protruding wood.

He sighed.

Everyone must make sacrifices.

This, Beetlejuice had to admit, was not his proudest moment, the walk he did as he stumbled down the stairs attested to that. 

He stumbled into the kitchen, hoping to ravage the remainder of Poptarts left in the cabinet, but was met with Delia instead. He rubbed his tired eyes and opened his mouth to greet her, but all that came out was a sad groan.

Eh, good enough.

Delia sympathetically smiled and shook her head. "Good morning to you too, mister," she took a sip of some weird pink sludge and approached him, "you're up earlier than usual!"

"Weird dream," Beetlejuice said, shrugging, "didn't feel like going back to sleep."

"Ah, I get it," Delia's eyes wandered to the rim of her cup, which she was running her finger around, before flicking back up to him, "they aren't too bad, are they?"

Beetlejuice shrugged and waved his hand. "Eh, my standards for 'bad' are pretty high, so…"

In all honesty, the worst dream he had so far had Charles casually walking around the house in lingerie. It seemed perfectly normal at the time, and no one acknowledged it, which made everything ten times worse. Afterward, Beetlejuice had to train himself not to burst into laughter any time Charles entered the room. Of course, he wouldn't tell Delia, lest he gives her any ideas.

"So, uh, what's up with _you_ this morning?" He eyed the outfit Delia was wearing — a simple purple sports bra and leggings.

He knew Delia usually went on her usual morning jogs on Monday and Friday — which it was _not —_ so what the hell could she possibly be doing any other morning?

Delia's eyes lit up like Christmas lights and gave him a big, dopey grin. "I'm doing some yoga and meditation!"

Beetlejuice arched an eyebrow. "Isn't that the thing white moms do to pretend they have some sort of spiritual connection to the universe when in reality, they're just there to brag about their life to other moms and show off a body they're too self-conscious about?"

She blinked.

Okay, so Lydia was _really_ rubbing off on Beetlejuice.

"Ah, well, yes, for _some_ people…" Delia mumbled, pursing her lips, "but I much prefer staying here. I've had enough group yoga to last me a lifetime."

Beetlejuice looked genuinely confused. "So, you're just… Gonna do random poses? What's the point?"

"I'm not just doing _'random poses,'"_ she sniffed, "it helps relax the mind and body. Helps cleanse your _essence."_

He blinked. "Ah. Neat," a beat of silence, "welp! I'll just be on my way then —"

"You should join me!"

_Fuck._

"Fuck," he whispered.

Delia placed the cup she was holding on the counter and moved to grab Beetlejuice's hands. She stopped short, though, seeming to remember herself. Her excitement, however, remained.

"It'll be fun!" She cried. "I can teach you some poses, how to breathe properly…"

Beetlejuice sighed. "There's no way to get out of this, is there?"

Delia froze. "Oh, well, you don't _have_ to…"

Ah, but it was too late. Delia had a frown on her face and a disappointment in her eyes that even the strongest-willed men like Charles couldn't ignore. Beetlejuice sighed and accepted his defeat.

"No, no, I'll join you. Teach me how to do your weird spiritual shit."

_And…_ the lights in her eyes were back on. She squealed with delight and clapped her hands.

"Great! Let me get the extra yoga mat. Oh my gosh, this will be great!"

Delia returned quickly, rambling the entire time as she set up the living room. Beetlejuice half-listened, barely understanding the terminology she used the majority of the time. If her weird spirituality wasn't scrutinized so often, Beetlejuice could argue she was incredibly smart — just in her own way.

She sat down upon her mat, which Beetlejuice copied, and smiled. Soft, calming music played from her phone, and the scent of burning incense was spread across the room. If Beetlejuice wanted to back out now, it was far too late.

Delia cleared her throat. "I'll help guide you through each movement. Now, we'll start with child's pose."

* * *

Delia had the grace of a swan. Each movement she made was clean and precise — everything she did had a purpose, and her body made sure that purpose was carried out.

But Beetlejuice…

He had about as much grace as a newborn baby trying to sit up. His movements were shaky, and every time he changed positions, he would stumble. Even worse, he wasn't _nearly_ as flexible as Delia. That woman could probably bend herself into a damn pretzel if she wanted to.

"You don't have to be perfect," Delia said softly, "when it comes to yoga, your comfort matters more than how flexible you are. As long as you do the pose correctly, and you're not in pain, you'll be just fine."

"And _how_ do I know I'm doing this right?" Beetlejuice huffed, adjusting his wobbling feet.

Delia opened her eyes and studied Beetlejuice's warrior pose. "You're doing it right if it doesn't hurt. Besides, you're doing just fine."

Beetlejuice adjusted his footing again, causing him to lurch forward. The floor barely missed his face as he slammed his hands against the floor.

"Y'know," he heaved, "maybe yoga isn't for me."

Delia relaxed her muscles and sat down. Typically, she would end her session with one last child's pose, but something told her that if she told Beetlejuice to do one more pose, he might go on a murderous rampage.

She shrugged. "It takes time to get used to. We can always try again next time."

"You say that as if there's gonna be a 'next time,'" he replied sharply, plopping down on his mat.

"Well," Delia mumbled, "I _hope_ we can try again next time. It was nice… Spending a morning alone with you."

The woman was beaming nervously at him, and, good God, he must really be getting soft because he felt _bad_ for her.

"I mean, I _guess_ we can have a next time. But _don't_ start thinkin' this waking up early thing is gonna be normal."

Delia chuckled and shook her head. "Of course not. So, are you up for a meditation session?"

"The kind of meditation where you press your fingers together and chant 'ohm', right?" Beetlejuice asked.

She cringed. "Well, there _are_ types of meditation that use the word 'ohm' to center the mind and body —" oh, she could go on and on about the cultural significance of 'ohm', but the last time she blabbed on about it, she got a healthy dose of glares — "but that's not what we're doing today. This is more of a, ah, _self-affirming_ sort of meditation."

Beetlejuice leaned back. "Huh, never heard of that one before."

"I guess you could say it's a new-age sort of thing," Delia shrugged, "but it is genuinely helpful!"

"So… Whaddya do?"

Delia grinned and hurried over to her phone. "Well, what we're doing is guided. I have an entire playlist dedicated to them. I was going to use something a little different, but since you're here, I'll use this one." She clicked something on her playlist and placed her phone down. 

She sat in a simple lotus position and closed her eyes, which Beetlejuice copied. They closed their eyes and listened. 

A woman's voice rang out, "Welcome back to another guided meditation. Today, we will be doing a self-affirming meditation. So, assume a comfortable position, and let's begin."

The woman's voice was calm and smooth. It was nice to listen to, sure, but it definitely wouldn't be something he'd like to hear when just having a casual conversation. It was too perfect, too refined to be something coming out of a breather's mouth. It'd be funny if the lady behind the voice was actually some siren, and — ah, damn, he wasn't paying attention.

The voice was currently ordering him to breathe in and out with timed rhythms which he tried to copy. Breathing itself was already difficult, he himself often forgot to actually do it. Breathing at times intervals? That was a damn Olympic challenge.

There was a moment of silence after, leaving just the chiming of bells ever so often to fill the void. The woman wasn't to be silenced for long, though — she took a deep breath and continued.

"Now we will begin some positive affirmations. Repeat after me, either out loud or in your mind: I am good."

Eh, that was debatable. The dozens of people he had killed over the centuries would say otherwise. Ah, and not to mention the shitload of the trauma he dropped on Lydia and left her to deal with. Maybe he could be neutral? Chaotic neutral? Definitely not good, though.

"I am worthy."

Worthy of what, condemnation? Hell yeah, baby!

"I am trying my best."

Eh, there was nothing witty he could use with that. He _was_ trying — was it his best? Maybe.

The voice continued, "It's _my_ turn to affirm _you._ Remember, the things you are going through, the torment in your mind, none of it is your fault. You're hurting and that's okay."

Beetlejuice's eyes snapped open as lightning ran down his spine. Delia, that little conniving bitch —

_"You're hurting."_

That was what she said at the mall. It was so simple. It was so _anticlimactic._ But that wasn't the issue, that wasn't what ticked him off. It was the fact that it was _true._

He didn't want that. He didn't want that word 'hurt' always floating over his head like a goddamn halo. Hurting meant that there was something wrong with him. There wasn't anything wrong with him!

(That was complete bullshit).

Hurting meant that he was weak… And how _dare_ Delia imply that.

(It wasn't what she meant at all).

Delia and her stupid caring self. Why did she have to _care —_

"You're tensing up," Delia said.

Beetlejuice opened his eyes. Delia was still beside him. Her eyes were shut and her body appeared perfectly in peace.

Of course.

"How do _you_ know?" He spat.

A hint of a smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. "I can feel the energy you're emitting. It's tense and uncomfortable," she opened her eyes, "there's something on your mind that meditation alone can't fix."

"Such an observant person, aren't you?"

"I _do_ have a psychology degree," Delia said too proudly for Beetlejuice's taste.

He huffed and balanced his chin upon his hand. "That was sarcasm."

"Oh, I'm aware! I just used your negativity and shifted it into something positive."

_"God,_ you're annoying."

"As I've been told."

Beetlejuice twisted his body toward Delia. "Can you stop acting like… _That?_ You're just purposely trying to annoy me now."

“I’m not trying to do _anything,”_ Delia insisted, shaking her head, “I just want to help.”

"Well, you're failing _miserably!"_

She snorted. "Clearly. And lower your voice," Delia scolded, "you're going to wake everyone else up."

Beetlejuice laughed. "Oh, the horror!" He cried dramatically, placing a hand on his forehead. "The annoying-ass demon shall wake everyone up! God forbid he become an even bigger nuisance to this poor family!"

_"What?"_ Delia's nails stabbed into her knees. "Where — How on earth did you come up with that? Beetlejuice, you're deflecting. Something is wrong and I _need_ you to talk to me about it. You're just hurting yourself even more."

"Why does that matter!?" Beetlejuice clawed at his scalp. "Why does any of this matter!?"

Delia sighed. "Because if you keep hurting yourself, you'll start hurting others, too. Then you'll feel guilty for that and start hurting yourself again. It's an awful loop that I want to get you out of."

Beetlejuice stared at the floor. "I'll start hurting others," he echoed.

"Unintentionally, but yes."

That meant he would hurt _Lydia,_ the Maitlands. Beetlejuice felt his stomach drop. Good God, he couldn't do that again; he _promised_ himself he wouldn't hurt others. Had he done it already? Had he hurt Delia?

"I —"

Delia placed a hand on his shoulder. "Beetlejuice, you're beginning to hyperventilate."

"I thought —" words fell from his mouth like liquid, "I thought I was getting better — everything was fine yesterday, why am I fucking up now!?"

"You're not —" she sighed, "progress isn't linear. You'll have your good days and you'll have your bad days; it's human."

"But _Lydia_ is doing just fine! She hasn't had a mental breakdown in forever!"

She shook her head. "Yes, Lydia is doing quite well _right now,_ but that doesn't mean she won't have her off days. Hell, _I_ still have off days and it's been seven years since my last marriage!"

"But I don't _want_ to hurt people," Beetlejuice whined.

"It's inevitable," she said, cringing at her crappy life coach days with Lydia, "you just have to pick yourself up, brush yourself off, apologize, and be better."

"But how can I _be_ better?"

Delia smiled sadly and shrugged. "You've just got to work hard on yourself. That's the best way."

"But I don't —" Beetlejuice paused and rested his hand in his palm, his eyes wide as saucers, "I'm not sure I can do that."

She cocked her head. "What do you mean?"

"I just — I've _been_ working, and I — I don't think I'm doing it right. I don't think I can do this alone? Which I know is silly, I mean, I am — _was_ this big, scary demon or whatever, but I just… I don't know what to do. You're probably judging me —"

"No, no, I understand what you mean," she said, "actually, have you thought of going to therapy?"

He snorted and shook his head. "Yeah, no. You really expect me to tell a therapist, 'Oh, yeah, all of my trauma stems from my demon mom constantly beating me, belittling me, using me as an object she can sell, and neglecting me. Oh, and there's all the abuse from the deceased _and_ my interactions with the Surfaceworld. Not to mention watching anyone I got close to die. Also, that one time a kid summoned me and got tortured by inquisitors, so her death was basically all my fault,'" Beetlejuice heaved, seeming to have completely forgotten to take a single breath during his rant, "I feel like if I said any of that, they'd lock me up."

Delia took a moment to process everything that Beetlejuice just said.

Wow. That was a lot.

"Well, first of all," she said, clearing her throat, "they don't 'lock people up' for things like that anymore. Second of all, isn't there _some_ sort of therapist in the Netherworld?"

"I mean, yeah, there are tons, but I dunno if they'd _want_ to help me…"

Delia smiled. "Of course they'd want to help you! That's one of the reasons people like me get degrees!"

"But they're _dead,"_ Beetlejuice argued, "what if they don't want to deal with people's problems anymore?"

She sighed and took Beetlejuice's hands in hers. "No one, not even us, is 'dealing' with your problems, we're helping you with them. And the likelihood that all of those dead therapists, the millions out there, don't want to help you?" Delia squeezed his hands. "Pretty damn unlikely."

Beetlejuice didn't respond. He stared at Delia's hands, counting the moles that spotted them. His eyes glanced up at her and back at her hands. 

They were warm. He liked Delia's warmth. His ma was always so cold, he couldn't help but shiver when she touched his bare skin. But Delia, Delia was like the Sun. She emanated warmth, not just physically, but in everything she did. Her smile, her voice, her personality. He had never been fond of the idea of drowning, but if he could drown in that warmth, he would embrace it. 

He could trust her, right?

If she said that someone out there in the endless plains of the Netherworld was willing to deal — to _help_ with his problems, was there any reason to doubt her?

Beetlejuice looked up, vaguely meeting Delia's gaze (Eye contact had always been icky). "Are you sure?" He whispered.

Delia shined her always bright smile. "I'm positive. How about you speak to your dead friend, Miss A., was it? I'm sure she can help you out."

He nodded, instinctively wiping off his wet cheeks (Once again, he cried without realizing, how embarrassing). "Yeah, I think — I think I can do that."

"Good," Delia nodded. Her hand cupped his cheek, "you're not alone, Beetlejuice, I want you to know that. We're all here for you. We love you, _I_ love you."

Beetlejuice was bawling now, snot running down his nose, tears blinding his vision — he had always been an ugly crier. Delia wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him tightly as though he were her own child (And he was). She rocked back and forth, humming softly to a made-up beat.

It had been a while before Beetlejuice's tears slowed. She didn't know how long, Delia didn't really care. Delia slowly released him, wiping the remaining tears as she did so. Her watch read 8:37 A.M., a couple of minutes after her usual breakfast time. She looked back at Beetlejuice and smiled.

"Are you hungry?" She asked. "I thought it would be nice to make something special this morning just for the two of us."

Beetlejuice nodded weakly.

"What would you like?"

"Um," Beetlejuice bit his lip. "Can we have Poptarts and pancakes?"

Delia internally arched an eyebrow. It was an odd request, but, hey, it was his choice. "Sure," she said, smiling once more. "I'll whip that up for us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Schwoopsie.
> 
> Hopefully, this chapter will make up for all the time I've been away! I don't have much to say since my head is scrabbled right now, but hopefully, I'll be back to my normal, rambling self next time!
> 
> However, I do wanna quickly mention that I do actually recommend yoga and meditation! I did it for my mind and body class at school, and to be honest? It was genuinely helpful. I felt a lot more relaxed afterward, and I'm not even that spiritual of a person dlfkjsfh!
> 
> And yes, Beetlejuice does get therapy... Finally. I'm probably not going to feature a lot of sessions in chapters, mainly because they would have nothing to do with the overarching plot. Hope that's okay!
> 
> Also, should I link my Tumblr? I only ask because maybe some of you would want to see stuff I'm interested in? Or just to check if I'm alive fkjkghsj I also draw, but I had a breakdown a while back and deleted my art tag impulsively, so I don't have a lot of stuff up at the moment. I don't know! It's up to y'all.
> 
> Feel free to comment! I love talking to y'all :D


	11. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> O O P

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be deleted when I post the next chapter ;P

Beetlejuice stepped up to the podium. With a quick tap on the microphone in front of him, he cleared his throat. "So. It appears that I and my other compatriots have been horrifically neglected by the author. Fuckin' pity, really, I'm not a demon you can just casually  _ neglect.  _ But!" He raised his finger proudly. "Don't fear! I have personally taken it upon myself to punish the other with the  _ utmost  _ efficiency."

As if to prove his point, Beetlejuice stepped behind the curtain on stage and kicked something — something solid and metal. There was a horrified scream. He stepped back out and smiled.

"Of course, I can't insult the author without giving their so-called side of the story. Apparently, 'school' and 'depression' are some sort of excuse for neglecting us — all of us! Even you!" He pointed his finger at you all, and one person let out a vindicated whoop. "But the author has written here that the ending has already been written out. That our story  _ is  _ going to be finished whether they like it or not. All that's left is the padding.

"I, however, still do not care. I have kindly donated the author a laptop — don't tell Charles — and plenty of food and water. They'll be fine… Probably.

"In the meantime, here’s a snippet I stole from them!"

* * *

_ The car stopped at a stoplight, and Qadira leaned back in her seat, inclining her head towards Beetlejuice. “So, you’re, like, Lydia’s brother, right?” Beetlejuice opened his mouth to answer, but she continued, “spill the beans; what insane, embarrassing shit does Lydia do while at home?” _

_ While Beetlejuice laughed, Lydia squawked and smacked Qadira’s arm. “Qadi! How dare you try to use my brother for blackmail! Especially against me!” _

__ "What? _ I’m just asking the important questions,” the stoplight flashed green, and the car began moving again, "so?” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY!!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Dumb idiot demon forgot to breathe and proceeds to hyperventilate lol cringe
> 
> Anyway, this is a really weird concept I had!! I thought it would be interesting to see Beej actually living his life as a human and seeing how the others experienced it as well!
> 
> My original plan was to maybe have it during the wedding, and instead of Lydia killing Beej, he lives! But the problem is that I'm a softie and this fic is probably going to be longer if I added more redemption stuff.
> 
> Have fun and thanks for reading! <3


End file.
